Yesterday's Man
by CaroH
Summary: An old friend of the King's returns and causes trouble for the Musketeers and Richelieu.
1. Chapter 1

In November, 1630 the enemies of Cardinal Richelieu believed they had finally destroyed his influence over the King. Unfortunately for them their rejoicing proved to be premature. Those events are what inspired this story.

 **Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter One**

"How much longer d'you think we'll have to stand here?"

Athos turned his head an infinitesimal amount so that he could cast a quick glance in Porthos' direction. They had been on duty since first light and it was now close to dinner time. There had been no opportunity to get anything to eat or drink. Athos' mouth felt like a desert and he had the uncomfortable feeling that his stomach was going to start rumbling. "It's not like the King to miss a meal so I'm sure he'll finish soon."

Louis was slouched on the throne looking bored. The Cardinal, with astonishing fortitude, had been standing at his right shoulder for hours without complaint. Once a month the King held a court for the commoners during which they could present their grievances. It always degenerated into petty squabbles between neighbours and tradesmen. Louis dutifully attended but no-one could pretend that he did it with good grace.

The present case involved a merchant with a grievance against one of his suppliers. The man had a whiny high-pitched voice that was threatening to give Athos a headache. He tuned him out by thinking instead about the meal waiting for them at the garrison and the wine he would consume afterwards. He turned when he heard the door opening. The elegantly dressed young man who entered didn't look familiar. The newcomer had long dark hair which he had tied back from his face. His eyes were a glacial blue and his features betrayed his aristocratic lineage. His clothes were of a style not commonly seen at Court, being dark and somewhat somber.

The King had also noticed the new arrival and suddenly sat up straight, an uncertain smile creeping over his face. "Andre? Is that you?"

The man walked forward and dropped to one knee before the throne. "Your Majesty. I am blessed to be in the light of your presence once more."

Athos raised an eyebrow at that and turned to Aramis. "Do you know him?"

"That is Andre, Comte de Saint-Pol. He and the King grew up together."

Louis was on his feet, looking as if he was going to rush forward and embrace his old friend. However, the Cardinal gently laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him back to the throne.

"My Lord Comte, it is a surprise to see you," Richelieu said.

"Why hasn't he been at Court?" Athos asked.

"He has been the French Ambassador in England for over five years," Aramis answered quietly.

Saint-Pol rose to his feet, stepped forward and grasped Louis' hand, bringing it to his lips. "Forgive me, my King. I grew weary of my exile and have returned home without permission."

"You abandoned your post?" the Cardinal asked, his tone icy.

Athos couldn't see Saint-Pol's face but he did see him go rigid and surmised that there was no love lost between him and the Cardinal.

"Now, Cardinal, don't be too hard on him. He's been away a long time and I've missed him." Louis' smile was blinding. "You will dine with me, Andre. I long to hear your tales of life at my brother-in-law's Court. Is it as dreary as they say? And, why do you look as if you're in mourning?"

"Alas this is the fashion in England these days. The Puritans grow ever more powerful now that they have control of Parliament."

"Well, you can tell me all about it over dinner. Come." The King leapt to his feet again. "I'm hungry." Without a glance at the remaining petitioners he walked straight towards the door with Andre and Richelieu following.

Athos bowed as the King passed and then relaxed his stiff posture with a noiseless sigh. The King was now in the care of the Palace guard, finally freeing the Musketeers to return to their garrison.

"The Cardinal didn't look very pleased," d'Artagnan mused as they walked back to their horses.

"I don't imagine he is," Aramis said, untying his cloak. "They never did see eye to eye. Saint-Pol was considered to be a bad influence on the King. Rumour has it that it was Richelieu who pressured the King into sending him away."

"And, now he's back. That'll make things interesting." Porthos stepped outside and led the way to the stables.

"In what way was he a bad influence?" Athos asked.

"He was young, rich and spoiled," Aramis said. "His only interests were hunting and women and he dragged the King along with him. Louis spent more time on the hunting field than he ever spent in the Council chamber. There were wild parties almost every night. It was even hinted that he was unfaithful to the Queen although I never saw any evidence of that."

"Surely that would have pleased the Cardinal," d'Artagnan said. "He would have been left alone to run the country without the King's interference."

"You would expect that to be the case. However, Saint-Pol encouraged the King to countermand many of the orders given by the Cardinal. I think he just did it to prove how much the King listened to him."

"The King sulked for weeks after Saint-Pol was sent to England." Porthos took his horse's reins from one of the stable boys and nodded his thanks. He swung himself up into the saddle.

On the ride back to the garrison Athos considered everything he had been told. He had no cause to like the Cardinal who tended to treat the Musketeer regiment with contempt. Despite that the man was a capable administrator and, grudgingly, Athos had to admit that he usually acted in France's best interests. To throw a wild card into the mix would be interesting but could be potentially disruptive and that, in turn, could lead to trouble.

Captain Treville was in the yard when they rode through the archway. He walked over to meet them.

"How are things at the Palace?"

"Interesting," Aramis said as he dismounted. "Andre de Saint-Pol returned from England this afternoon."

"I'm surprised the Cardinal let the King recall him from his post."

"He didn't. Saint-Pol apparently came back without authority." Athos handed his horse over to Jacques. "Aramis and Porthos think he will cause trouble."

"They're probably right unless he's matured in the last five years, which I doubt."

"You don't like him?"

"It's a hard and thankless task getting the King to attend to his duty. He's easily distracted and now isn't the time. The Queen is with child and relations with Spain are strained. There are wars raging all around us, any one of which could pull us in if we're not careful. It's a diplomatic quagmire. Saint-Pol never cared who he upset or insulted and the King indulged his every whim. If we're not careful he'll revert to being a teenager again and I don't want to contemplate that."

"Maybe Richelieu will find a way to get rid of him again." D'Artagnan opened the door to the refectory so that the others could pass through.

"We'd better hope so," Treville said gloomily. "Either that or we will have to brace ourselves for chaos. Keep an eye on him and, if you see the King being led astray, report it to me."

The savory smell of stew and fresh baked bread distracted Athos. For the moment he put Saint-Pol out of his mind. Even the dire prediction of the Captain didn't settle too deeply into his consciousness. After all, how much trouble could one man cause?

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Two**

"But I want to go hunting!"

The King didn't quite stamp his foot but Athos could see that it had been a close thing. Andre Saint-Pol stood at Louis' shoulder, a position from which he had barely moved in the last two days.

"You went hunting yesterday, Sire," Richelieu said. "Today you have an important Council meeting to attend."

"Do you dare to give orders to your King?" Saint-Pol asked.

Athos briefly closed his eyes and readied himself for another skirmish. As far as he could tell there wasn't a single thing about which Saint-Pol and the Cardinal agreed. At first it had been amusing to watch the imperious First Minister having his every move blocked. Now it was becoming tiresome.

"Andre is quite right," the King said with a whine in his voice. "You can't give me orders."

"You misunderstand me, Majesty. I merely sought to remind you about a prior engagement."

"The Ministers can meet without me."

"Richelieu isn't going to win this one," Aramis whispered. "Looks like it'll be another day in the saddle."

"The Council has no authority to make decisions in your absence." Richelieu's voice had risen a fraction in volume.

"You can tell me all about it later." The King looked around him with a wide grin on his face. "There, that's settled." He beckoned to one of his valets. "Tell the huntsmen to ready the hounds."

"He does know it's raining?" Porthos said. "And windy. The chances of findin' any game are remote."

"I don't think he cares," d'Artagnan responded.

Athos stood up straighter as the King turned in their direction.

"You will accompany us, Musketeers."

"Yes, your Majesty." Athos executed an elegant bow.

The King and his courtiers swept from the room to change into hunting attire, leaving the Cardinal standing alone. Athos could almost feel sorry for him…almost.

"We should saddle the horses," Athos said. He glanced out the window to see that the rain was falling heavier than when they had arrived. His mouth tightened in irritation. It was foolhardy to hunt in these conditions. The pathways would be rivers of mud and the grass soaked and slippery. All they needed was for the King to get thrown to make this a perfect day.

They sheltered in the stables until the King emerged from the palace. Then, with great reluctance, they took their places at the front and rear of the procession. Athos and d'Artagnan followed after the huntsmen and the dogs with the King and Saint-Pol immediately behind them.

"Isn't this exhilarating?" Saint-Pol said, having to raise his voice against the wind. "We rarely hunted in England. Charles was more at home in the library than out in the countryside."

"My brother-in-law always was boring," Louis said. "Even his letters just drone on and on about the political situation. He should take charge of the country. It was a mistake to give Parliament so much power."

"Not a situation that afflicts you. Everyone knows you are the man who wields all the power."

Athos could imagine the King preening himself even if it was a gross exaggeration. Everyone other than the King knew where the real power lay. He shook his head to displace the water that had gathered in the brim of his hat before pulling his cloak more closely around his body. His leathers kept the worst of the weather at bay but it was still an unpleasant experience.

One of the huntsmen came running back. "The hounds have caught a scent, Sire."

"Well, what are you waiting for. Release them."

The hounds took off across the field. In order to keep up with them it was necessary to spur the horses into a canter. Athos, who was a consummate horseman, could feel the animal's uneven gait and pressed his knees tighter to consolidate his position. They reached the woods and began to plunge through the undergrowth. When they burst out into a clearing he saw that the dogs had flushed a wild boar. They had encircled the enraged animal, keeping it at bay. Athos and d'Artagnan both dismounted.

"Splendid. Splendid." The King brought his horse to a standstill, kicked his feet free of the stirrups and dismounted with excited haste. His left foot slipped on the wet ground and he would have fallen if not for d'Artagnan who grabbed his arm and steadied him. The King looked startled and then nodded his thanks. D'Artagnan let go and stepped back, colliding with Saint-Pol.

"My apologies, my Lord Comte," d'Artagnan said.

"It is not fitting for a common soldier to lay hands on the King," Saint-Pol said.

"You would rather the King had been allowed to fall?" Athos asked, his voice as smooth as syrup.

"Of course not."

"Then it appears d'Artagnan's actions were the lesser of two evils." Athos locked eyes with the Comte, being well used to dealing with arrogant nobility.

Saint-Pol was the first to break the impasse. With his face set in a ferocious scowl he walked away to rejoin the King.

"I don't think he liked that very much," d'Artagnan said with a slight smirk.

"What did we miss?" Aramis asked as he and Porthos joined them.

"Athos standing up to Saint-Pol."

"You busy makin' friends again?" Porthos asked.

Athos grimaced. "We should get back to the King. They cornered a wild boar and it looks pretty mad. I hope the King has the sense to leave the actual kill to someone more skilled."

However, it appeared the King wasn't exercising any good judgement today. He had taken one of the long pikes and was edging closer to the boar.

Athos turned to Aramis. "Get ready to shoot it. If it charges the King won't stand a chance."

Aramis nodded and drew his pistol. "I'll ensure it doesn't get close enough to do any harm."

The huntsmen had recalled the hounds, leaving the King to face the extremely large animal. He took another step. The boar was snorting and pawing the ground. It had caught his scent and its beady eyes were fixed on the man standing between it and freedom.

"You can do it, Sire," Saint-Pol called.

"Is the man completely mad?" d'Artagnan asked of no-one in particular.

One second the boar was standing still and the next it was racing across the clearing heading straight for the King. Louis thrust ineffectually with the spear before freezing. Aramis raised his pistol and fired. The ball slammed into the boar's head and it dropped to the ground no more than two feet away from the petrified King.

"Who told you to interfere?" Saint-Pol snarled, raising his riding crop.

Before his arm could fall to strike the surprised Musketeer, Athos had him by the wrist.

"You don't want to do that," Athos said.

"Remove your hand."

"Not until you calm down."

"I will have you court martialed for this." Saint-Pol's face was red. However, it didn't matter how hard he struggled, Athos grip didn't falter.

"You are certainly welcome to try," Athos said, his tone mild.

During their confrontation, the King had been ushered back to his horse. He was helped back into the saddle where he sat, gripping the reins. "I think I want to go back to the Palace, now," he said plaintively.

Athos let go of Saint-Pol who dropped his arm, looking murderous.

"Stay out of my way, Musketeer."

"It will be my pleasure." He waited until Saint-Pol had mounted his horse before turning back to his own animal.

"Was that wise?" Aramis asked.

"I wasn't going to stand back and let him strike you."

"For which I am eternally grateful." Aramis laid a hand over his heart and bowed. Just make sure you watch your back. He is a dangerous enemy."

"I have you three to watch my back," Athos said. "And, Treville. There is nothing to be concerned about."

He climbed back into the saddle and prepared to leave. The huntsmen had gathered up the carcass and slung it into the back of a wagon. No doubt the King would take credit for the kill, Athos thought resignedly. As soon as the cavalcade had reformed they started back towards the palace. Athos remained distracted. Despite his reassuring words to his brothers he had the feeling that more trouble was coming courtesy of the Comte de Saint-Pol.

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Three**

Athos climbed the stairs leading to Treville's office with a heavy heart. His actions during the hunt had discredited the Musketeers. At least that was how he saw it. His friends had a different view and had urged him not to bring it to Treville's attention. However, his strong sense of duty had prevailed along with some practical common sense. He had thwarted the King's closest friend and he didn't take lightly the threat to have him court martialed. It would be better for Treville to hear it from him, rather than from an irate Comte with a personal agenda.

After taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, he knocked on the door. There was a momentary pause before he heard Treville call out an invitation to enter. Once inside the room he removed his hat and stood to attention.

"Is there some problem I can help you with?" Treville asked. Papers littered his desk and he wore a harassed expression. "Or are you and the others in trouble again?"

That hit a little too close to home but Athos maintained his stoicism. "There was an incident during the hunt today."

"What kind of incident?"

"The King came face to face with a wild boar. It charged and Aramis had to shoot it."

"I'm sure that was disturbing for the King but I don't see why you're reporting it to me. Aramis was just doing his duty."

"That wasn't what the Comte de Saint-Pol thought. He threatened Aramis with his riding crop."

Treville half stood up before subsiding again. His expression had turned hard and was matched by the chill in his voice. "I assume he didn't strike him."

"No, because I intervened."

"Ah, so that's what's bothering you." Treville reached down to open his desk drawer. He brought out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. "Sit down."

Athos hesitated before complying. He had expected censure, not this calm acceptance of his actions. When a full glass was placed in front of him he made no move to pick it up.

"You look like you need a drink." Treville took a sip and then sat back. "I assume the Comte was less than pleased."

"He said he would see me court martialed." Deciding that he did need a drink Athos picked up the glass.

"I won't allow that to happen."

"But, the King…"

"He will listen to me. You have nothing to worry about."

"Except for the fact that I've made an enemy of the King's closest friend."

"True." Treville frowned. "Why was he unhappy that Aramis had saved the King's life? I would have expected him to show gratitude."

"We have been wondering the same thing. Earlier he chastised d'Artagnan for preventing the King from slipping in the mud. It's almost as if he wants to see the King injured or killed."

"It doesn't make a lot of sense. They were very close growing up. I can't see any motive for Saint-Pol to wish the King ill."

"Could he blame the King for making him stay in England for so long?"

"It's possible I suppose. I'm sure that was Richelieu's doing though. I doubt if Louis gave much thought to the situation once he got over feeling aggrieved."

"That might be the point. He would have expected the King to fight for him. Instead he was sent away for five years."

"You think he is a danger?"

"We should assume he is until he proves otherwise."

"I will speak to the Cardinal. He is closer to the King than we are."

Athos drained his glass. "Yes, but for how much longer?"

TMTMTM

He found his friends in the refectory sheltering from the persistent rain. It was too early for dinner but they had found a bottle of wine and were relaxing by the fire. Porthos had his deck of cards in hand and appeared to be showing d'Artagnan how to cheat. Aramis was fully absorbed in reading his book of psalms. Every so often he would jot down a note in the margin. Athos stood in the doorway, watching with a faint smile. Porthos was berating d'Artagnan for his lack of skills while Aramis appeared to be in a world of his own. The door banged closed and three pairs of eyes turned in his direction.

"Porthos, I'm ashamed of you," he said. "Teaching d'Artagnan bad habits."

"The lad's got to learn some time. The Red Guard are an easy mark if you've got a couple of cards up your sleeve."

"And if he gets caught?" Athos asked.

Porthos grinned. "Even better. Then we get to fight them."

Athos shook his head in mock despair. "Aramis, can't you keep him in line?"

"I've tried, my friend. Believe me. Unfortunately, I have been unable to cure him of his nefarious ways."

"How did it go with the Captain?" d'Artagnan asked.

"He was remarkably understanding. His main concern is that Saint-Pol could be seeking to do the King harm."

"If the King dies or is incapacitated Saint-Pol's influence disappears. He only has power because of his connection to the King and the long friendship they share." Aramis closed his book and slipped it into a pocket.

"What would happen if the King dies before the baby's born?" d'Artagnan asked.

"That's an interesting question. Technically the King's brother, Gaston, is the heir until the King has a child of his own." Aramis' voice faltered on those words.

Athos was well aware of the fact that the child the Queen was expecting was, in all likelihood, Aramis'. However, Porthos and d'Artagnan didn't know of the events at the convent and he wanted to keep it that way. "I'm sure the Council would delay making any decision on the succession until the Queen gives birth," he said.

"Can't see Gaston sittin' around waitin' to be supplanted," Porthos said. "Little bastard's tried once already to rebel against his brother. He was lucky to be sent into exile instead of losin' his head."

Athos nodded. "Which makes it all the more imperative that we guard the King. Friend or foe we stand between him and Saint-Pol."

TMTMTM

The following morning they were on duty again at the palace. The rain had finally stopped and it was a beautiful autumn day. Treville had accompanied them, intending to seek a meeting with the Cardinal. They found the King in the library with Saint-Pol on one side and Richelieu on the other. It clearly wasn't harmonious. The King sat at a table surrounded by large rolls of parchment.

"I don't see why Spain can have a large navy and we can't," he said petulantly. "Explain that to me, Cardinal."

"Building, equipping and running a navy is very expensive, Sire. We've spoken about this before. France can't afford it."

"Why can't we afford it? The people pay taxes."

"Not enough." Richelieu looked sourly at Saint-Pol. "You know we are experiencing some financial hardship."

"That suggests a criminal mishandling of the exchequer," Saint-Pol said. "France should be prosperous and she should take her rightful position on the seas. Look at all the exploration being carried out by Spain and England. There are great treasures to be found in the New World I understand. France should have its fair share."

"Quite right," the King said. "I want ships. Look, we have the drawings."

"But no shipyards, and no money to entice craftsmen with the necessary expertise." Richelieu looked to be hanging onto his temper by a thread.

"Then we need to bring in more money. Raise the taxes and the import levies." Saint-Pol laid a hand on the King's shoulder in a proprietary manner. "The King wants ships and he should have them."

"There will be riots if we increase the taxes and traders will stay away from our shores if it becomes too expensive to bring in goods."

"I don't care. Find a way to make it happen, Cardinal."

"Perhaps it's time the post of First Minister was filled by a younger man," Saint-Pol said. "Someone with energy and imagination."

"I can assure you that I am quite capable of carrying out my duties," Richelieu said stiffly.

"I do hope so," the King said. Then he looked up and saw the Musketeers. His gaze lingered on Athos before he beckoned Treville to come forward. "Explain to me, Captain, why one of your men assaulted the Comte de Saint-Pol yesterday."

"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, Majesty."

"Not even my Musketeers have the authority to lay a hand in anger on a member of the nobility. Athos, step forward and explain yourself."

"If I may?" Treville held out a hand to stop Athos. "You were in danger, Sire, and Aramis acted to save your life. The Comte for reasons unknown took exception to that and threatened Aramis with violence. Athos merely stepped in to prevent a catastrophe."

"The Musketeer, Aramis, took a shot while much too close to your Majesty. If he had misjudged it he could have seriously injured you."

"I can assure you that Aramis hits what he aims at," Treville said.

"By all accounts you would have been gored by a wild boar if Aramis hadn't acted," Richelieu said.

Athos looked at him in surprise. It wasn't often that the Cardinal came to the defense of a Musketeer.

"You are missing the point, Cardinal," Saint-Pol said. "Athos manhandled me in full view of all those in attendance. He humiliated me and left me with bruising around my wrist." He pulled up his sleeve and offered his arm for inspection.

Athos bit down hard on the urge to dispute that. He had taken Saint-Pol in a firm grip, that was true, but he hadn't held him long enough to cause bruises. Nonetheless, the King was inspecting the Comte's skin with interest and some concern.

"See, Treville? See what your man did. You will send him back to the garrison. I don't want him in my presence."

"As Your Majesty wishes." Treville turned apologetically to Athos.

Recognizing the futility of arguing, Athos bowed, exchanged brief looks with each of his brothers, and left the room. He wouldn't regret what he had done to save Aramis but it appeared he was going to have to pay the price.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Four**

"I want him flogged. Publicly."

Aramis found that his hands had curled up into tight fists as he listened to Saint-Pol pursue his vendetta against Athos. He felt responsible. After all, Athos had only acted to protect him. If he had reacted quicker he would have been the one now facing censure.

"That is hardly appropriate."

He was astounded when it was the Cardinal who spoke up before Treville could intervene.

"The Cardinal is correct, Majesty. Just think about the message that would send. A Musketeer, a member of your elite guard, treated like a common criminal." Treville's hands were clasped behind his back, undoubtedly to prevent him punching Saint-Pol in his smug face.

"He caused me extreme embarrassment," Saint-Pol said. "He should be punished."

"Yes. Yes, he should but, Andre, don't you think having him flogged is a little extreme?"

Aramis risked a sideways glance. Both Porthos and d'Artagnan looked livid. "Stay in control," he murmured. "We won't do Athos any good if we incur the wrath of the King for failing in our duty." Despite his conciliatory words, he wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into the odious courtier.

"You would take his side in this?" Saint-Pol asked angrily. "I thought we were friends."

"A King has a higher duty," Richelieu said. "He has to think about the consequences of his actions."

There has been very little evidence in the past of the King considering the wider ramifications of his decisions so Aramis was surprised to see Louis nodding.

"Quite right, Cardinal. The Musketeer will attend upon us in the morning and make a public apology for his actions."

Aramis sighed noiselessly. He could just imagine Athos' reaction to that order. He took some solace from the anger on Saint-Pol's face. There was no doubt that the noble was now a firm enemy of the Musketeers and that they would have to tread carefully to avoid any future confrontations.

Treville bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty is merciful. I will ensure Athos' compliance."

"He ought to be grateful," Saint-Pol said through gritted teeth.

Louis dismissed the topic and the Captain of the Musketeers with a wave of his hand. "Now, Cardinal, about my plans for a French navy…"

TMTMTM

"No," Athos stated, incredulity tinging his voice.

"You would rather be flogged?" Treville asked, his temper unravelling. They had already been dancing around the subject for at least ten minutes and his lieutenant hadn't wavered in his opposition to the notion of apologizing.

Athos' mouth was set in a stubborn line. "What he did was wrong. How can I apologize for stopping him from attacking one of my brothers?"

"No-one said you had to be sincere. You know how the Court works. Just say the words and be done with it."

"You think Saint-Pol will let it lie? It's only a matter of time before he provokes another incident."

"I have no doubt about that and we will deal with it when it happens. Would you give him the satisfaction of seeing you whipped? It would be humiliating and would undermine your position in the regiment. If you don't obey the King's order I won't be able to protect you."

"You've already done enough. I won't see you compromise your position on my account."

"How does it do anything other than compromise my position if I have to tell the King that I can't control my men?" It was a low blow but Treville was becoming desperate. He needed to leverage Athos' sense of loyalty. "What happens if he forms the view that I am no longer fit to lead? Do you want to see me replaced?"

"Of course not." There was indecision written all over Athos' face. "It's just…I am no courtier. I speak the truth and you are asking me to lie. How do I make it convincing?"

Sensing a capitulation Treville began to relax. "We all have to do distasteful things from time to time. It is part of contending with a royal court and a capricious King. Draw on your training and you will be fine."

Athos bowed his head, his expression unreadable. "I am only doing this to prevent further disgrace to the regiment."

"I understand. Your friends are waiting for you and I'm sure they're anxious to hear your decision. I will accompany you tomorrow and will be there to support you."

That provoked a half-smile and a softening of Athos' grim expression. "That is something we can always rely on."

Treville nodded and dismissed Athos, knowing that the others would also provide moral support. The task would be difficult but he trusted the young man to accomplish it with the same composure he demonstrated every day, even under the most trying of circumstances.

TMTMTM

"Finally!" Porthos said. "We were wonderin' how much longer you were goin' to be."

"You have reached a decision?" Aramis asked.

"Yes, and now I need a drink."

"You're going to apologize?"

"Yes, d'Artagnan, although it goes against my conscience."

"It's better than the alternative." Aramis draped his arm around Athos' shoulders. "Come, let us go to the Wren for dinner and some wine. That's make you feel better."

Fifteen minutes later they were comfortably settled with wine in front of them and fish stew on order.

"What happened after I left?" Athos asked.

"Well, the King's dead set on buildin' a navy. The Cardinal's unhappy about it."

Athos wasn't surprised to hear that. The cost of building a navy would be exorbitant and he could imagine the unrest amongst the nobles and common folk if taxes were raised to fund it.

"Saint-Pol was talking about raising a special levy to fund it," Aramis said. He smiled brightly at the serving girl who was delivering their food.

"There you go, handsome," she said, throwing him a flirtatious look.

Athos shook his head. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Where is the harm in acknowledging beauty?" Aramis asked innocently.

In truth Athos was encouraged to see his friend reacting to other women instead of moping around pining for the one woman he could never have. "Not every woman is beautiful."

"They are to me."

The girl grinned and finished putting the bowls on the table. Athos picked at his food, brooding about the apology he would have to deliver the next day. He paid far more attention to the wine, downing two glasses in quick succession. When he reached for the bottle Aramis pulled it away.

"You don't want to face Saint-Pol with a hangover," Aramis said.

Athos scowled at him. "When have you known me to be hungover on duty?"

"Many times, my friend. You're just very good at concealing it."

"What are you going to say to him?" d'Artagnan asked.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Were you ever as arrogant as Saint-Pol?"

His brothers now knew all there was to tell about his past so it wasn't an unreasonable question. He considered d'Artagnan's question carefully. "I hope not."

"Do you never think about telling the King you're a Comte? You're the same rank as Saint-Pol but he believes you to be nothing more than a common soldier."

"I am not longer a Comte, Aramis. I renounced my title five years ago, and have no regrets about my decision."

"Still, I'd like to see the look on Saint-Pol's face if he found out." Porthos chuckled wickedly.

"He is not to be told," Athos said. "My past is my own business."

"We won't betray you. Don't worry." Aramis picked up the bottle of wine. "Here. I don't suppose one more glass will do you any harm."

Shortly after that they returned to the garrison where Athos spent a sleepless night trying to decide how to frame an apology he didn't want to make.

TMTMTM

The throne room was crowded when Athos entered flanked by his brothers and Treville. He kept his face expressionless even though his stomach was in turmoil. They waited for the King to acknowledge their presence and then walked forward. All conversations ceased and the room became deathly quiet. Athos held himself proudly, refusing to show any sign of discomfiture.

"Athos. You will apologize to the Comte for your actions," Louis said.

"He should get down on his knees," Saint-Pol said maliciously.

"I kneel to the King and to no other man," Athos snapped. He felt Treville's hand come to rest on his shoulder in a supportive gesture.

"The apology will be sufficient, Andre," the King said, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice.

Athos swallowed twice to clear his throat. He turned to Saint-Pol and looked him squarely in the eyes. "My Lord Comte. I apologize for my presumption in laying hands on you. It was never my intent to cause you embarrassment or any injury. I beg your forgiveness." He surreptitiously wiped his damp palms on his breeches.

"You know I wanted a harsher punishment for your effrontery?"

"So I have been told."

"That was a handsome apology," the King said. "Accept it and we can move on. Come, Andre, the sun is shining and I have ordered lunch to be served in the pavilion."

Saint-Pol narrowed his eyes but couldn't withstand the force of Athos' stare. He looked at the King and inclined his head. "Your apology is accepted, Musketeer. But, if you get in my way again the King won't be as lenient."

"My Lord." Athos bowed and stepped back to rejoin the ranks of his brothers.

"You did well," Treville said as he joined him.

Athos watched as Saint-Pol fawned over the King and wondered just how long it would be before the Comte engineered another confrontation. He wasn't naïve enough to expect that his apology had smoothed things over. It was only a matter of time.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Five**

"How are things at the Palace?"

For three days Treville had kept Athos close to the garrison and well away from Saint-Pol and his machinations. Although the King had put the incident behind him it was apparent that the Comte had not. Numerous snide comments had been made about the efficiency of the regiment and, on one occasion, Saint-Pol had deliberately barged into Aramis and then demanded an apology. That Aramis had delivered one in the most elaborate court language possible had only worsened the situation.

"The King is obsessed with his plans for a navy. He is refusing to listen to reason."

"Hardly the first time that's happened." Athos was bored and it would be hours yet before his brothers finished their duties.

"This time is different," Treville said. "The Cardinal has always been able to talk him round before. Now the King barely tolerates his presence."

"There will be many at court who take heart from that news."

"Yes. They have started to circle like sharks sensing blood in the water."

"What of Saint-Pol?" Contempt infused Athos' tone.

"He is always at the King's side, dripping poison into his ears. What little influence I had has disappeared and even the Queen has been excluded."

"That is worrying."

"What's worse is that the King is announcing his new tax tomorrow. Every commodity is to have a five percent levy applied to it."

"Even food?" Prices had been steadily climbing before this development. Many times Athos had heard Serge complain about the rising cost of feeding the regiment.

"Everything. The nobles will complain but it is the poor I worry about. Many people are barely making ends meet as it is. Wages just aren't keeping pace with the inflationary costs."

"There will be trouble."

"Undoubtedly. Which is why I have no choice. You must return to your full duties and that includes service at the palace."

"We knew I couldn't avoid Saint-Pol for ever."

"Be careful, Athos. He is a powerful enemy."

Athos acknowledged the warning with a nod. He watched distractedly as Treville left him and climbed the stairs to his office. He knew that he had been fortunate to have such a loyal advocate but had no confidence that the Captain could head off what was coming for him.

TMTMTM

They were on duty the following day, standing guard on one of the pavilions in the grounds of the palace. The King sat inside accompanied by the Cardinal, Saint-Pol and two clerks from the office of the Lord Chancellor. A leather folder lay before the King with a pen and inkwell beside it.

"He's not wastin' any time," Porthos said in hushed tones.

"He's dead set on building his navy." D'Artagnan sounded bemused by the whole concept.

"If Your Majesty would just take a moment to consider," the Cardinal said. "This tax will be enormously unpopular with the people."

"Oh, who cares about the people, Cardinal. If we are going to be a proper seagoing nation we need money to build ships."

"A King needs the goodwill of his people, Sire."

"A King demands their respect," Saint-Pol said. "Their opinions about the governance of the country are not required." He looked over to Athos, naked hatred on his face.

Athos schooled his own features. It would do no good to react to the blatant provocation. He was, however, becoming increasingly disturbed about the level of influence Saint-Pol had over the King.

Louis opened the folder and extracted a sheet of parchment. He read it eagerly before holding out his hand for the pen.

"We must be careful how we deliver the message. The people need to see this as advantageous for France and, therefore, for themselves."

Yes, yes, Cardinal. Do whatever is necessary but get me the money."

"I have already sent messages to England and Spain, Majesty," Saint-Pol said. "I will gather the finest draughtsmen and shipwrights to your service."

Louis bestowed a beaming smile on his friend. "How did I manage without you, Andre? You are a true inspiration. Isn't he, Cardinal?"

"As you say, Sire," Richelieu said with a stilted bow.

The King signed the Order with a flourish before passing it to one of the clerks for the ink to be sanded. The other clerk heated the sealing wax and carefully dripped it onto the parchment. Louis removed his royal signet ring and pressed it into the soft wax. The tax was now law.

Richelieu took the Order with a look of distaste. For all his faults, he had a good grasp of the mood of the people. His agents made sure of that. "If Your Majesty will excuse me, I will make the necessary arrangements."

"See that you do, Cardinal."

Athos watched the disaster unfolding in front of him with a sense of helplessness. No-one wanted the opinions of a lowly soldier even if it would be the Musketeers and Red Guard who took the brunt of the repercussions. He was careful not to make eye contact with Saint-Pol, not wanting to give the man any fresh cause for complaint. Not for the first time he wondered about the Comte's motives. His only aim seemed to be to drive a wedge between King and Cardinal. Did he have ambitions to become First Minister? Athos almost shuddered at the thought. He dragged his thoughts back to the present when he saw the King readying himself to leave.

Saint-Pol strolled over to them, stopping in front of Athos. "I'm surprised to see you. I would have expected Treville to keep you out of sight. After all, you are a disgrace to your regiment."

There was a low growl of disapproval from Porthos and Aramis took a half-step forward. Athos grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back into line.

"I am sorry that my presence offends you."

Saint-Pol grinned nastily and leaned forward. "I am going to destroy you. No man lays hands on me without consequences." He turned away and hurried after the King.

"I'm goin' to enjoy bringin' that bastard down," Porthos grumbled.

"That won't be easy," d'Artagnan added.

"I think we might have to rely on the Cardinal for that," Aramis said.

"We watch and we wait. Eventually he will make a mistake." Athos sounded confident but he was far from sure that he was going to survive the Comte's enmity. His only concern was that his friends not fall with him.

TMTMTM

"You are needed in the marketplace," Treville said. "Word has got around about the new tax and there is already unrest."

Athos shoved a final bite of bread and cheese into his mouth and rose quickly. "How did it get out so fast? The King only signed the order yesterday."

"That doesn't matter. Your job is to stop things escalating into a riot. Take another half dozen men with you. Athos, you're in charge."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Treville scowled. "This isn't a debate. It's an order. Go."

"I'll round up the men," d'Artagnan offered.

At Athos' curt nod he hurried off in the direction of the refectory. While they waited Aramis checked his pistols.

"I'm not planning to shoot anyone," Athos said drily.

"Neither am I but a gunshot into the air has a marvelous effect of breaking up a mob."

D'Artagnan returned a few minutes later with six of the most experienced Musketeers in the garrison. Athos briefed them and led the way into the town. Even though it was still early the streets were busy and their presence caused quite a disturbance. People moved quickly to get out of their way, looking at them askance.

The market square was filled with stalls selling everything from vegetables to leatherwork. Athos immediately noticed that the mood was ugly. People were arguing with stallholders and congregating in groups. Many were gesticulating wildly and voices were raised. An altercation was breaking out at one stall so Porthos strode over to intervene.

"Spread out," Athos said. "Break up the largest groups. People are to be told to go about their business."

"This won't stop here," Aramis said. "If we move them on they'll just gather in the taverns."

"At least they won't be endangering women and children." Athos gestured towards a young mother struggling to make her way through the press of bodies. She had a young child by the hand and was balancing a basket and a baby with her other arm.

"I'll help her." D'Artagnan moved away, spoke to her briefly then took the basket and steered her towards one of the streets leading away from the market.

Aramis looked around. "It looks like there's trouble brewing over there. I'll take care of it."

Athos stood on the fringes watching his men fan out to deal with the situation. Nearby a large man was talking loudly to a sizable group of men and women. Their responses were increasing in volume. Athos walked nearer.

"What right's the King got to raise our taxes? We're hard working folk who deserve the chance to make a decent living. He sits in his fancy palace, eating his fine meals and never thinks about us. How're we supposed to feed our families when he increases the cost of food?"

Athos had heard enough. He pushed through the crowd to confront the orator. "Your words border dangerously on treason," he said. "It is the King's prerogative to raise taxes in times of need." He turned his back on the man to address his audience. "You will disperse."

"Why should be we listen to one of the King's lapdogs?" the man asked aggressively.

Athos spun round and fixed him with his formidable stare. "Because I have the power to arrest you. I'm sure a night in the Chatelet will be enough to cool your passion."

Although some people drifted away there were others who stayed, muttering angrily.

"We have the right to have our say."

"Not if it incites insurrection." Athos rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You'd attack honest god-fearing folk? The man asked incredulously.

"It wouldn't be my first choice."

There was a stir of movement before Porthos arrived at his shoulder.

"Everything alright?" Porthos asked.

Athos raised an eyebrow at the rabble rouser. "I believe so. These good people were just about to return to their homes."

His words were met with sullen looks but gradually the people began to leave. The large man was the last to go.

"This isn't over."

"It is for today," Athos said.

The market was gradually returning to normal and, one by one, the Musketeers returned to give their reports. There had been no serious challenges to their authority, although there had been many complaints about the King and the Cardinal.

"They think this is Richelieu's doing," Aramis said. "Saint-Pol's name was never mentioned."

"Did anyone say how they had found out about the new tax?" Athos asked.

"Apparently men were going round the taverns last night telling people." D'Artagnan looked concerned. "I thought the Cardinal had persuaded the King to let him manage the message."

"He did and he would never be so careless as to let it get out like this."

"You think Saint-Pol had a hand in it?" Porthos asked.

"I'm afraid I am biased where that man is concerned. So, yes, I think he did."

"What motivation would he have?" Aramis asked.

"The same motivation as is behind everything he does. Sow discord between the King and the Cardinal."

"He would risk a full-scale rebellion?" Aramis looked doubtful.

"He would see Paris burn to further his ambitions."

"I think you over estimate him, Athos."

Athos looked sadly at Aramis, disappointed that his friend couldn't see the magnitude of the threat. "I hope I'm wrong, but Saint-Pol clearly has an agenda and we need to figure out what it is before it's too late."

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Yesterday's Man

Chapter Six

For the next week the Musketeers were out in force, patrolling the streets, visiting taverns and generally stamping their authority on the city. It was exhausting and dispiriting work, particularly as they could sympathise with the sense of betrayal felt by the populace. Upon returning to the garrison after a particularly difficult day they found Treville pacing across the courtyard. He pointed to Athos and Aramis.

"You two. My office."

"I'm pretty sure we haven't done anything to upset the Captain," Aramis said doubtfully.

"He doesn't look happy." D'Artagnan dismounted and rested a sympathetic hand on Aramis' shoulder. "Whatever it is, I have confidence that you can talk him round."

Athos led the way to the office, concerned by Treville's obvious agitation. He and Aramis stood at attention and waited.

"Your presence has been requested. No, not requested. This is an order directly from the King. You are to accompany the Comte de Saint Pol to Le Havre."

They exchanged bemused glances. "Why us?" Athos asked. "The Comte has no cause to like either of us and he has often made it clear that my presence is not welcome."

"That's a good question, Athos, and I have no answer for you. He apparently requested the two of you personally. You leave in the morning. I don't have to warn you to be careful. Saint-Pol does nothing without reason."

"What's so important in Le Havre?" Aramis asked.

"He is meeting with a shipwright who has just arrived from England. According to the King he is trying to recruit the man to run this preposterous scheme to build a navy. You'll be gone for the best part of a week so you'd better get your gear together."

"Six days on the road with Saint-Pol. That'll be a delight," Aramis said as they made their way back to the yard.

Le Havre was over a hundred miles from Paris which meant stopping over for at least two nights each way.

Athos, who had made the journey before, was mentally going over the route to identify inns where they could spend the night. "I can't see his Lordship wanting to camp out. Fortunately, it's a well-travelled route with plenty of places to stop."

"What did the Captain want?" Porthos asked as they gathered at their usual table.

"We are to escort our favourite Comte to Le Havre." Aramis threw his hat onto the table and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why would the Captain choose to send you two?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Apparently our presence was requested."

Porthos and d'Artagnan both looked at Athos in surprise. He just shrugged his shoulders to show that he was as bemused as them.

"I don't trust him," Porthos said.

"No-one does, except for the King." Aramis looked at Athos. "We should get ready. We have an early start tomorrow."

"Stay safe," d'Artagnan said.

"We'll see you in a week." Aramis gathered up his hat and flung an arm around Athos' shoulders. "Don't worry, my friend, I have your back."

TMTMTM

Athos and Aramis reported to the Palace at first light, sensitive to the length of their journey. Saint-Pol made them wait for two hours before strolling out to join them. By that stage Athos' temper was simmering.

He encroached onto their personal space and glowered at each of them. "You only have one job and that is to get me safely to Le Havre and back again. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Your Lordship will be quite safe with us," Athos said.

"I hope so. The King tells me you musketeers are the best soldiers in the country. I can't say I've seen much evidence of that so far. This will be your chance to prove yourselves."

"We will do our best."

Saint-Pol mounted his horse and looked condescendingly at Athos. "I'm sure you will, but will it be sufficient?"

"Athos is the finest swordsman in the regiment," Aramis said. "I can assure you that no harm will befall you."

"Your skills lie with firearms I understand."

"Yes," Aramis said without any modesty.

"Well, we shall see." Saint-Pol spurred his mount forward.

"Charming man," Aramis said as he urged his mount into movement.

They rode until midday before stopping for a quick meal and to rest their horses. Saint-Pol kept his distance, seemingly disinterested in talking to them. In the middle of the afternoon he stopped and beckoned to Athos.

"Ride ahead and find us an inn for the night."

"There are still several hours of daylight left. We should press on."

"I didn't ask for your opinion. Tell the innkeeper that I will want a bath and food sent to my room."

At the rate they were travelling they would be on the road for three nights instead of two but Athos could see it was pointless to argue. "As you wish."

TMTMTM

With Saint-Pol safely ensconced in his room Athos and Aramis could relax in the bar. They ordered food and wine and stretched to work the kinks out of their backs.

"He seems to have got over the urge to bait us," Aramis said.

"I'm sure that is only temporary." The wine arrived and Athos gratefully grabbed the bottle. "I still can't figure out what he's up to."

"Maybe he just wants to subject us to the tedium of the journey."

"That's possible."

"Plus he gets to order us around like servants."

"Yes. I can't help feeling there is more to it though."

"I'm sure we'll find out in due time."

"It might be no bad thing to be out of Paris for a while." Athos looked around to ensure there was no-one within earshot. "You and the Queen aren't being very discreet."

"I don't know what you mean."

Athos shook his head. "Of course you don't," he said with fond exasperation. "Just be careful. If Richelieu or Saint-Pol notices it could spell disaster."

"I would never do anything to cause harm to the Queen or her child."

Athos was forbearing enough not to remind Aramis that by sleeping with the Queen he had put her in mortal danger. "Not deliberately, but you are not very good at dissembling. Neither is she for that matter. You know you can never be together so why inflict so much pain on yourself?"

"I love her, Athos."

"No, you don't. She is the Queen."

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly. Forget her, Aramis."

Their food arrived and they lapsed into silence. Athos plied his friend with wine, hoping to restore his good spirits. When that didn't work Athos called an end to the night and they both retired to bed.

TMTMTM

Aramis was still subdued the next morning. Saint-Pol in contrast was unexpectedly genial. He greeted the two musketeers politely and indicated that he would like to camp out that evening to enjoy the simpler life.

It was an unexpected and not entirely welcome development. Athos spent the journey staring at Saint-Pol's back and trying to figure out what he was up to now. A vague sense of unease tickled his senses and kept him alert for danger.

Towards nightfall they reached a fast running stream and Saint-Pol indicated that he was ready to stop and make camp. They rode through a copse of trees until they reached a clearing.

"I saw trout in the stream," Aramis said. "If you can set up the camp I'll catch our dinner."

Saint-Pol wandered off while Athos tended to the horses. Of course, it was beneath his Lordship to help, he thought mutinously. Once the animals were settled Athos went hunting for wood. It wasn't long before he was piling up the last of the brushwood and setting about lighting the fire. Suddenly the peace was shattered as a shot sounded from the direction of the river. He was on his feet and running before he even processed the implications. He plunged into the wood, heedless of the noise he was making. In the trees, not far from the river, he saw Saint-Pol bending down over a body lying on the ground. The Comte was holding a pistol and the air was filled with the stench of cordite. Without thinking about the consequences Athos wrenched him to his feet.

"What have you done?"

"It was an accident."

"You shot Aramis by accident?" he asked incredulously. He pushed the man away and fell to his knees. Blood was seeping through Aramis' white shirt and there was no movement to show if he was alive or dead. Athos pulled his glove off and felt for a pulse. Then he turned on Saint-Pol, filled with uncontrollable rage. "You bastard," he hissed. There was a thundering sound in his head as he got to his feet. With his hands balled into fists he stalked towards the Comte. Saint-Pol backed away, colliding with the trunk of a tree. Athos drew his right arm back and let loose with a ferocious punch which hit Saint-Pol squarely in the face. He watched dispassionately as Saint-Pol's head bounced off the tree before the man slid to the floor to lie in an unmoving heap.

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Seven**

"Aramis! Aramis!" Athos tapped gently on his brother's cheek, hoping to elicit a response. He paid no heed to Saint-Pol who was groaning pitifully as he returned to consciousness. The wound in Aramis' shoulder continued to bleed, saturating his clothes and skin. Eventually, in desperation, Athos left only long enough to grab a spare shirt from his saddlebags. He wadded it up and maneuvered it into position, pressing down to try and stem the flood. When he was satisfied that the flow had decreased he carefully eased Aramis onto his side so that he could check for an exit wound. He almost growled in frustration when he realised that the ball was still lodged in Aramis' body.

"You hit me."

Saint-Pol's voice sounded nasal leading Athos to wonder, without any remourse, if he had broken the Comte's nose. "Shut up."

"Insolence, added to a charge of assault. You'll be lucky if all that happens to you is the loss of your commission."

"You really think that matters? Aramis needs urgent medical care and we're miles from anywhere."

"Can't you patch him up?"

Athos leveled a forbidding stare at the Comte. "It appears I have little choice. Are you going to help or are you just going to sit there and snipe?"

"What do you need?" Saint-Pol asked grudgingly.

He didn't look well. There was blood dripping from his nose and his eyes were hooded, suggesting that he had a bad headache. Not that Athos cared. His only concern was for Aramis. He would deal with the repercussions of his actions later.

"Heat some water. The wound will need cleaned once I remove the ball. You'll find a medical kit in Aramis' saddlebags. Bring it here. Once he wakes he can tell us how to make a poultice and something to help with the pain."

There was some movement under his hands now so he dismissed Saint-Pol from his thoughts and leaned closer to his injured friend. "Come on, Aramis. Open your eyes." He involuntarily held his breath and waited.

"Ow," Aramis muttered. "What happened?" His eyes opened sluggishly and his gaze drifted before fixing on Athos' face.

"You've been shot. Lie still."

Aramis' right arm moved and came to rest on the bulky material covering the wound. "Who?" His voice was weak and his brow creased into a frown as he tried to remember.

"Saint-Pol. He says it was an accident." Athos' tone clearly indicated what he thought of that.

"Why…why would he shoot me?"

"That isn't important right now. The ball is still in there, Aramis. I'll have to remove it."

Even more of the colour left Aramis' face. "I understand." He lay quietly for a moment. "Clean the forceps in boiling water and see if you can find any yarrow. Lay some leaves over the wound before you bandage it. They will help to draw out any infection. You will be most likely to find it by the stream. It has small white blossoms and fern-like leaves."

Athos nodded although he was very reluctant to leave. "Do you think you can walk? It will be easier to tend to you back in camp."

Aramis pushed himself up into a sitting position and held out his hand. Athos grasped it and pulled him slowly to his feet, sliding an arm around his waist to support him. They made slow progress but eventually they reached their destination. Saint-Pol was sitting by the fire watching a pot of water come to the boil. He turned when he heard them and Aramis gasped.

"What happened to his face?" he whispered.

"I was angry," Athos said. "Sit down over here." He lowered Aramis down to rest against his saddle.

Saint-Pol stood up and walked over to offer Aramis' medical kit. Athos unrolled it and extracted the small forceps. Mindful of Aramis' instructions he took them over to the fire and dropped them in the boiling water before returning to hunker down by his friend's side.

Aramis reached out and gripped his arm weakly. "You know he will hold this against you," he said. "You should not have struck him."

"He shot you. What was I supposed to do?" He gently removed Aramis' hand. "I will go and find the yarrow. You rest until I get back." He disliked the thought of leaving Aramis with Saint-Pol although he didn't think the Comte would do any further damage. Nonetheless he walked quickly to the river and scanned the banks for the flower described by Aramis. He was happy to see that it was growing in abundance and he gathered an armful of the leaves.

When he returned to the camp he found Saint-Pol and Aramis ignoring each other, although the air crackled with tension. He had the impression that words had been said and that neither was happy with the outcome. He dumped the leaves on the ground and went to retrieve the forceps. They were blisteringly hot and he had to wait for them to cool before he could handle them.

"This will be easier if you lie down," Athos said.

Aramis nodded, pale but resolute. Once he was positioned on the ground Athos removed the bulky shirt that he had used to staunch the bleeding. He used his knife to cut away Aramis' shirt so that he had a clear view of the wound.

"The bleeding has almost stopped."

Aramis had his eyes closed and his teeth were worrying his bottom lip. Every muscle in his body was tense.

"I'm sorry," Athos said. He pushed the tip of the forceps into the hole left by the ball.

There was a pained gasp from Aramis who tensed up even further. As Athos probed deeper Aramis flinched and tried to pull away.

"Easy, my friend." He continued to push deeper. "I can feel it. Just a little longer and this will be over." He widened the opening of the forceps, eliciting a deep groan from his patient. With a twist of his wrist he removed the surgical instrument, relieved beyond measure when he saw the mangled lead ball still in its jaws.

Aramis was ashen and looked to be barely conscious. Blood was again flowing from the wound so Athos fetched the water and a clean cloth. He carefully washed the area around the injury before gritting his teeth and pouring a stream of water into it. Aramis gave a strangled scream before lying still, his eyes tightly shuttered.

After packing the leaves around the hole, Athos wrapped bandages around Aramis' shoulder. He had finished before Aramis stirred again.

"It's done?"

"Yes. Sleep now. I'll make a pain draught for when you wake." His hands were covered in his brother's blood and were shaking so badly that he had to grip them together tightly to bring them under control.

"Herbs. In my saddle bags," Aramis said haltingly.

"I will find them. Rest easy. I will be here when you wake."

"Saint-Pol?"

"Bruised. Nothing serious."

Aramis yawned. "You…you shouldn't have done it."

"Sleep. We can discuss this later."

Once he was sure that Aramis had drifted off he went to the stream and washed his hands. On his return journey, he saw the fish that Aramis had caught lying abandoned on the ground. He picked them up and carried them back to the camp.

"I need something for the pain," Saint-Pol said.

"You'll need to fetch fresh water."

The Comte flushed angrily. "I'm not your lackey."

"Neither am I yours."

"You will rue your actions this day."

Athos sat down and began to gut the fish. "As will you. Shooting a Musketeer is a serious matter."

"I told you, it was an accident."

Athos turned his cold stare on the Comte. "Explain to me how you shot him by accident."

"I heard a noise and thought it was a wild animal. I acted out of self-defense."

Athos snorted rudely. "You expect anyone to believe that?"

"The King will believe me and he will toss you out of the regiment like the trash you are."

He had walked straight into a trap and could see no means to extricate himself. The Comte was right. When faced with the word of his best friend the King would swallow the lie. His career was at an end. Now he had a choice to make. He could resign his commission and keep his honour or force Saint-Pol to perjure himself to secure a conviction. Neither course was appealing and neither was the thought that he would be barred from his injured brother's bedside. No, he couldn't walk away while Aramis needed him. He would have to stay strong and face the consequences.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Eight**

Athos didn't have the heart to wake Aramis to eat. He and Saint-Pol ate in unfriendly silence before the Comte announced he was going to sleep. By that stage, Athos noted, his eyes had blackened and the area around his nose had become red and swollen.

It was the middle of the night before Aramis woke, returning to full awareness with a groan. Athos offered him a cup of the pain draught he had prepared in anticipation. "How do you feel?"

"A little light-headed from the blood loss. Other than that, it is manageable."

"You will be able to ride tomorrow?"

"It will not be pleasant but I will manage. Do we continue on to Le Havre or return to Paris?"

This was the crux of Athos' dilemma. They had a mission to complete and he didn't want to give Saint-Pol any more reason to complain. It was also a shorter journey and would get Aramis medical help if he needed it that much sooner.

"I think we need to go on."

"Yes. I agree. The King would be most displeased if we were to fail in our duty."

"Are you hungry? We have fish, bread and cheese?"

"I could eat."

Athos fetched the food and a skin of wine. Aramis downed the wine enthusiastically and then ate what was put in front of him.

"How's Saint-Pol?"

Athos looked across the fire at the sleeping Comte. "I've spoiled his good looks."

"This isn't something to take lightly."

"I don't."

"He will tell the King."

"And we will defend my actions. Would you have done any different had our positions been reversed?"

"It is the least I would have done."

"Then we will speak no more about it until we return home. Try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a hard day."

TMTMTM

Saint-Pol sat by the remains of the fire and finished his breakfast. He'd been surprised to see Aramis looking so alert. The Musketeer was obviously in pain but assured him that he was fit to continue with the journey. He was slightly disappointed. It would have been satisfying to return to Paris to report the failure of his mission. That would have painted the whole regiment in a bad light. It appeared he would have to content himself with destroying Athos instead. That would be a sweet satisfaction. He raised a hand to his face. His nose throbbed and his headache hadn't abated. Yes, he would enjoy dragging the arrogant man before a tribunal. He would see him stripped of his commission and thrown out in disgrace.

This unexpected feud had distracted him long enough from his true purpose. His friends in England would be waiting to hear how he was getting on with destabilizing the French crown. So far Louis had acted exactly as predicted. Given time he would unseat Richelieu and take his place as First Minister. Then he would be well placed to bring down the monarchy.

"It's time to get on the road," Athos said.

Aramis, whose arm was now in a sling, clambered awkwardly into his saddle. He didn't look very steady and had lost some of his colour. Nonetheless he gathered up his reins and set off after Athos without any complaint.

They rode for a couple of hours before Athos called a halt. Aramis was breathing heavily and beads of sweat covered his forehead. Saint-Pol felt some stirrings of sympathy for the man who had only been a means to an end. He hadn't intended to injury him so severely but his aim had been off, hitting the shoulder instead of the arm. It had achieved the desired effect though. Athos had reacted with impressive violence and had sealed his own fate.

It was some time before Aramis was fit to continue but Athos asserted that they would ride for as long as necessary to reach the town. Their slow progress continued throughout the day and it was well into the evening before they saw the lights of Le Havre on the horizon. All of them were relieved when they finally reached their destination. The inn was the best in the town as befitted his station. He had considered billeting the Musketeers elsewhere, discarding the notion when he realized that he should keep his guard close.

"You will attend on me in the morning," he instructed.

"I will. Aramis will be resting."

He considered taking issue with the impertinent upstart, deciding that it was beneath his dignity to become embroiled in an argument. He retired to his room and wrote a detailed and damning account of events. Once he was satisfied he carried the letter to the innkeeper and paid for it to be taken to Paris.

TMTMTM

It was a week before they returned to Paris. Saint-Pol had held a series of comprehensive and deathly dull meetings with the master ship builder from England. They had culminated in an offer of employment which the man was considering. Athos had been aghast at the cost of building even one ship. To construct a viable navy would bankrupt the country, imposing an intolerable burden on the people.

Aramis had returned to duty after two days much against Athos' wishes. Apart from issuing infrequent orders they had been completely ignored by the Comte. The journey home had been swifter than their outbound trip. They stayed at inns both nights, no one suggesting that they should camp out. Aramis' injury was healing well with no signs of complications and for that Athos was grateful.

They escorted their charge to the doors of the palace where he left them without a word of thanks.

"Charming man," Aramis said. He was looking tired.

Athos shrugged and turned his horse in the direction of the garrison. When they rode through the archway both gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. It was dinner time so they handed their horses over to the stable boy and headed for the refectory.

"Aramis. Athos." Porthos' booming voice greeted them.

Athos led the way over to the table and gratefully sank down onto one of the empty chairs. D'Artagnan immediately got up and fetched two more bowls of stew.

"The Captain said to tell him the minute you returned but I guess he wouldn't begrudge you the chance to eat first." Porthos poured them mugs of ale.

Athos sampled the stew before his conscience got the better of him. "I should go and make our report."

"What's wrong with your arm?" Porthos was looking suspiciously at Aramis.

"It's a long story, my friend, which I will tell you over a bottle of wine after dinner."

Athos ate a couple of quick mouthfuls before standing up. "I might be a while."

"What's going on?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Things didn't exactly go smoothly." Athos said laconically.

"That would be an understatement," Aramis replied.

"One of you had better tell us what happened." Porthos was starting to look annoyed.

"I'll leave that to Aramis. I'm going to see Treville."

He found the Captain in his office, looking like a man overburdened with cares as he sat back and surveyed Athos.

"Saint-Pol sent a letter to the King," Treville said by way of greeting.

"I thought he would. What did he say?"

"That you launched an unprovoked attack on him and did severe damage to his face. Is it true?"

"I punched him, but that was after he shot Aramis." The memory of seeing his brother comatose on the ground still sent a shiver down his spine.

"Dear God! Is Aramis alright?"

"He was wounded in the shoulder. Fortunately, it is healing well."

"How did it happen?"

"Saint-Pol claimed it was an accident. We believe it was deliberate provocation."

"Well he's got what he wanted. I am under orders to arrest you and present you before the King for judgment."

Athos swallowed hard to clear his throat. "I have brought shame on the regiment. Allow me to give you my resignation."

"I won't accept it, and it wouldn't make any difference. Saint-Pol wants you broken. Give me your word that you won't try to leave the garrison and I won't have to lock you up."

"You have it. Thank you."

"I rely on you to ensure no one does anything reckless. Risking the loss of one man is bad enough."

"I will do what I can."

"Good. Be ready in the morning. Athos, I'm sorry but I don't think I can save you."

"I understand. He set a trap and I walked right into it. I'm convinced he means France harm. I just don't know what his end game is."

"The Cardinal believes the same thing. We will continue to watch him. Go and get some rest."

Athos returned to the refectory, his steps leaden. This would be his last night as a Musketeer and possibly his last night outside of a prison cell. The regiment had saved him from wallowing in a deep pit of despair. How he was now to navigate his path away from his friends he had no idea. When he entered the room Porthos immediately sprang to his feet, his expression thunderous.

"I'll kill the bastard," he growled.

"You will stay away from him." He looked around the table. "All of you."

"He shot Aramis and he's out to destroy you," Porthos ranted.

"He has succeeded in his goal. I am technically under arrest and must appear before the King in the morning."

"He means to subject you to a court martial?" Aramis asked.

"That is my belief. He may also want to press criminal charges."

"I will speak in your defence," Aramis said.

"Your support will be welcome. Treville will also do what he can, but he isn't optimistic."

"The King knows you are a brave and loyal soldier. Surely that must count for something?" d'Artagnan said.

"It might keep me out of prison." He sagged back in his chair. "I want you all to promise that you won't provoke him. Your duty is to the Musketeers, not to me."

"You are asking a lot, brother," Aramis said.

"I know. He is a dangerous man and I wouldn't deprive Treville of his most loyal supporters."

"We will bide our time," Aramis said. "But one day we will vindicate you."

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Nine**

The hearing this time was in private. In addition to the King only Saint-Pol was present, the bruising to his face colourful and obvious. Athos, flanked by Treville and Aramis, did his best to look unaffected by the gravity of his situation. Inside though his guts were churning.

"I was lenient with you once," the King said. "Don't expect it a second time."

"If I may speak, Sire?"

"No, Treville, you may not. I don't want to hear excuses. The reputation of the regiment is in tatters thanks to the undisciplined behaviour of your soldier."

"Athos only acted out of concern for my welfare," Aramis said.

"Were you invited to speak?" Saint-Pol said. He exuded a sickening air of satisfaction.

"If anyone should have cause for complaint it's me." Aramis ignored the admonishment and pressed on. "You shot me without cause or provocation."

"A most unfortunate situation, but a complete accident," the King said testily. "It certainly didn't justify Athos attacking one of my nobles."

Aramis opened his mouth to argue further, but was forestalled by Athos gripping his arm.

"Peace, brother," Athos said. "I will take the consequences for my actions."

"This is a witch hunt," Treville said angrily.

"Be very careful, Captain. My patience is not unlimited," Louis said.

Athos felt his stomach plummet, the King's haughty stare cutting through him like a knife. The temptation to bow his head, to avoid seeing his fate hurtling towards him, was all but overwhelming. Despite that he was no coward. His gaze flickered between his irate monarch and the Comte who had engineered his downfall.

"You have committed a grave offence and must be punished severely. I have taken into account your years of exemplary service in deciding not to send you to the Chatelet."

Athos' palms prickled with moisture. He knew what was coming next and was helpless to avoid it.

"However," Louis continued. "I can't have members of my elite guard running around assaulting my courtiers. You will leave the Musketeer regiment in disgrace. Remove your pauldron and give it to Captain Treville."

"This is outrageous," Aramis said heatedly. "That man is the one who should be punished." He raised his arm and pointed at Saint-Pol while quivering with anger.

"Be careful, Aramis, or you might lose your commission as well," Saint-Pol said.

"You do Athos an injustice," Treville interjected. "He is a fine soldier who is guilty of nothing more than an error in judgment."

While Treville was talking Athos, his hand shaking, was fumbling to unbuckle his most prized possession.

"The King is never wrong, Treville. You know that."

"Your Majesty has been misled."

"My decision is final. You can all go now."

The pauldron came free. Athos slid it down his arm and held it out to Treville. "It has been an honour to serve with you, Sir." He turned and bowed to the King before walking quickly from the room. He didn't get far before the enormity of what had just happened rooted him to the spot. He reached out to the wall for support as he began to tremble.

Aramis and Treville quickly caught up with him and he looked pleadingly at his former captain. "What do I do now?"

"You return with us to the garrison."

"Yes. I should gather my belongings and…"

"I'm not throwing you out. It's time for a council of war."

"I'm no longer a Musketeer." The tightness in his chest increased as he said the words out loud for the first time.

"You will always be a Musketeer. We just have to find a way to get the King to see that."

"Come." Aramis wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. "We have a lying, scheming Comte to destroy."

Athos resisted the subtle urging to move. Instead he shook his head. "I won't be responsible for further trouble."

"The King will never find out." Treville started to walk toward the stairs. "Besides, you need somewhere to sleep."

"I can rent a room in the town."

"And deprive us of your company? I don't think so." Aramis gave him a gentle push to get him moving.

Having no alternative destination in mind Athos allowed them to lead him back to the stables and from there through the narrow streets to the garrison.

TMTMTM

"Will you sit down? You're makin' me tired just watchin' you."

D'Artagnon paused in his frenetic pacing. "How can you sit there so calmly?"

"Oh, I'm not calm. I'm plottin' ways to make Saint-Pol suffer."

"What have you concluded?" D'Artagnon finally dropped onto the bench.

"Somethin' painful but not fatal. That would be too merciful."

"A hunting accident?"

"Nah, too obvious. A fall down a flight of stairs perhaps? Enough for him to break somethin' without it killin' him."

"Poison's always an option. Look how badly Richelieu suffered when that Cardinal tried to kill him."

"I wonder if he can swim. If not, there are a few deep lakes in the palace grounds we could push him into…by accident, of course."

"True, but then someone would have to go in and rescue him before he drowned."

"None of that helps Athos though, does it."

D'Artagnan's playful mood evaporated. "No, it doesn't. We need to find a way to get the King to banish him again."

"Athos seems convinced that Saint-Pol is up to no good. If we could just catch him at it, we might stand a chance."

The sound of horses' hooves drew their attention to the archway. D'Artagnan stood up. "They're back." He hurried over to take hold of the bridle of Athos' horse. "What happened?"

Athos, his face grey and downcast pointed wordlessly to his shoulder.

"He took away your commission?" d'Artagnan said loudly and in disbelief.

"The King wouldn't listen to our appeals for clemency," Aramis said as he dismounted.

Athos continued to sit on his horse, his back hunched and his body drained of energy. D'Artagnan touched him on the leg to gain his attention.

"Come and we'll find you some wine."

"I can do better than that," Treville said. "My office, all of you."

After dismounting gracelessly Athos followed the Captain, his brothers close behind. There were only two chairs in Treville's office and Aramis gently pressed Athos down onto one of them.

"Brandy." Treville brandished a bottle that he had pulled out of one of the desk drawers. "Porthos, there are cups in the cupboard by the bed."

Porthos fetched five pewter mugs and Treville filled each one with a healthy amount of the strong liquor. When Aramis handed one to Athos is was obvious how much he was shaking. He took a long drink before laying it down and lacing his fingers together to still the tremors.

"Despite the King's edict, Athos will be staying here," Treville said. "There is no reason for anyone to be made aware of that. We wouldn't want Saint-Pol to cause further trouble."

"What happens now?" d'Artagnan asked.

Treville sat down behind his desk. "Now, gentlemen, we find a way to discredit the Comte and recover Athos' commission."

Tbc


	10. Chapter 10

For those of you who are following A Father's Love, I did post the final chapter a few weeks ago but the site was being weird and wasn't sending out alerts. I have a touch of writer's block and this chapter didn't come easily. I'm sorry if it isn't up to my usual standard.

 **Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Ten**

"The first thing we need to do is enlist the help of the Cardinal," Treville said.

"What good will that do?" D'Artagnan asked. "He's out of favour with the King."

"He's a consummate politician. He'll find a way back into the King's good graces. Besides, he has an enviable spy network and we need to find proof that Saint-Pol is working against France's interests."

"What if he isn't?" Athos looked up from a prolonged study of his hands, his face a picture of despair. "Apart from encouraging the King's obsession with building a navy he hasn't done anything that would suggest a nefarious agenda."

"Unfortunately, Athos is right," Aramis said.

"What about the way he behaved at the hunt?" Porthos asked. "He was surprisingly angry when you intervened to protect the King."

"He explained that away. How was he to know of my proficiency with a pistol?"

"You sound like you're making excuses for him," d'Artagnan said angrily.

"I can assure you I have no love for the Comte." Aramis' hand strayed to his shoulder which still pained him if he became over tired.

"Arguing amongst ourselves is not going to help Athos," Treville said wearily. "The Cardinal is our best hope." He stood and placed his hands flat on the surface of his desk. "Athos, get some rest. I'm going back to the palace. You three will accompany me."

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave Athos on his own," d'Artagnan said.

That brought the faintest of smiles to Athos' lips. "I can assure you that I don't need anyone to watch over me."

"Promise you won't leave." D'Artagnan looked distraught at the idea that his mentor might abandon him.

"You have my word. Be careful, all of you. Saint-Pol will stop at nothing to remove those who offend him."

"If he tries anythin' with me he'll find out what it's really like to get punched in the face," Porthos warned.

"Porthos!" Athos couldn't quite keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

"No-one will lay a finger on him. Is that understood?" Treville looked from one to the other, his mouth set in a severe line.

"Perfectly, Captain," Aramis said. His innocent expression concealed his deep hatred of the Comte and his firm resolve to exact vengeance for his beleaguered brother. He met Treville's gaze placidly, not missing the narrowed eyes and suspicious look.

"I don't want to lose any more good men," Treville warned.

"Then you'd best find a way to get rid of Saint-Pol before I beat him to a pulp." Porthos scowled at the Captain. "And, I won't regret it."

"Your loyalty is admirable but that isn't the way to go about this. We will watch and wait until he gives us the ammunition to destroy him." Treville walked round his desk and paused to squeeze Athos' shoulder reassuringly. "Don't give up hope. We will find a way to restore your commission."

Athos nodded, not trusting his voice. Once everyone had gone he emptied his cup and bleakly contemplated what his life was going to be like now that his whole reason for living had been taken away from him.

TMTMTM

Treville was a man who, in public, knew what behavior was expected of him. However, he was very close to losing his temper. His demand for a meeting with the Cardinal had been met with a series of excuses which had kept him waiting for an hour in the ante-chamber leading to Richelieu's office. When the door finally opened and he was beckoned forward he could feel his blood pressure rising. The Cardinal didn't look up from the document he was reading. Instead he held up a hand to admonish Treville to keep silent. Treville ignored it.

"We have an important matter to discuss," he said.

Richelieu sighed and straightened up in his chair. "One of your Musketeers has been stripped of his commission. I heard. What do you expect me to do about it?"

There was no chair so Treville was forced to stand, his anger quietly simmering. "Saint-Pol is a danger to all of us. I thought you might help."

"I'm listening."

"Help me to find out what's really going on. It's no secret that he wants your job and, if I'm any judge, I'd say he's well on his way to persuading Louis that it's time for a change."

"The King needs me."

"No-one is indispensable. Not even you."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Set your spies on him. You're uniquely placed to watch him."

Richelieu didn't bother to deny the existence of his circle of agents, but neither did he immediately volunteer their aid. "I have pressing concerns of my own."

"Our interests align. Not that I ever imagined saying that."

"Perhaps you're right. It would benefit all of us if Saint-Pol were dispatched back to England. Or perhaps he could have an unfortunate accident."

"A little obvious, even for you."

"Oh, come now, Captain, when have I ever been 'obvious'?"

"Will you help or not?" Treville asked bluntly.

"I will see what I can do. In the meantime, you'd better concentrate on reining in your men. I can't imagine they are very happy about today's events."

"That would be an understatement. Don't worry, I can handle them. Send word if you find anything out."

TMTMTM

The sun shone fitfully in a sky filled with scudding clouds. Despite the weather the King had decided to spar outside with his weapons master. Aramis automatically critiqued his technique while grudgingly admitting that Louis made up for his lack of ability with his unbounded enthusiasm. A small handful of courtiers watched the display, applauding politely on the infrequent occasions when the King scored a point. After another misstep, the King threw down his sword and gestured for one of the servants to bring him a goblet of wine. During the ensuing lull in the proceedings Aramis was dismayed to see Saint-Pol heading in his direction.

"I'm surprised to see you back on duty so soon. I trust your injury wouldn't hamper your ability to protect the King if the need arose."

"I will perform my duty as I always do."

"How commendable. You Musketeers have a very high opinion of yourselves, don't you? Unfortunately for you, the King's opinion is very different. Athos' actions have tainted the whole regiment. It wouldn't surprise me if Louis were to consider disbanding it."

"I doubt the King would take such drastic action. It's not as if Athos did any permanent damage." It was taking all of Aramis' self-control to hold a civil conversation.

"It's the perception of an ungovernable faction at the heart of the Court," Saint-Pol said. "Louis is very angry."

"I'm sure that anger will pass quickly."

"Will it? I wonder." He looked over to where the King was taking up his stance again. "Well, I should get back. I just thought you would like to know which way the wind's blowing."

Saint-Pol strolled away and Aramis gritted his teeth in frustration. The Comte was slowly isolating the King from all those who had sworn to serve him. He could rarely remember feeling so helpless.

Instead of rejoining the spectators the Comte spoke to Louis and then drew his sword. Aramis watched with a sense of horrified disbelief as the two started to spar. He edged closer, not trusting Saint-Pol to moderate his actions. There was no doubt that the King was out-classed. The Comte had obviously had a good teacher and was more than proficient. His footwork was sound and his sword moved with dizzying speed. The King was struggling to keep up and had only avoided injury because Saint-Pol was fighting with a controlled grace. Aramis kept waiting for Louis to call a halt but, the longer the bout went on, the more concerned he became. There was an intensity to the Comte's actions that boded ill for a positive outcome.

He looked to his right and left and saw that Porthos and d'Artagnan were watching with the same horrified fascination. Saint-Pol started a series of moves that would end with Louis being disarmed. As the King's sword flew through the air Aramis began to run.

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Eleven**

There was no time for finesse, nor to worry about the risks to his still healing shoulder. Aramis barged into Saint-Pol, driving both of them to the ground. He landed on his left side and a vicious spike of pain radiated from his shoulder and down his arm. His vision blurred as his hold on consciousness became tenuous. He could hear yelling, but could distinguish no words as he fought the darkness. Then someone was by his side, coaxing him to sit up. He obeyed more out of habit than from a desire to move. He began to raise his arm to massage the wound but his hand was gently captured and pressed down.

"Take it easy," Porthos said. "It'll be alright in a minute."

The aggrieved shouting hadn't abated and Aramis realised that it was the King's voice he was hearing.

"What on earth possessed you?" Louis said.

Aramis opened his eyes to find the King standing over him, his hands on his hips and his face red with anger.

"I'm sorry," Aramis stammered. "When you were disarmed, I feared for your safety."

"Andre would never hurt me. This is just another example of Musketeer incompetence."

"I fear that was retaliation, Sire." Saint-Pol managed to sound smug and sorrowful all in one.

"Yes. I'm disappointed in you, Aramis."

With Porthos' aid Aramis was able to get to his feet. He kept his gaze lowered, lest he provoke the King any further.

"What happened?" Treville's arrival seemed to forestall a renewed outburst from the King.

"Another of your men attacked the Comte. Can't you control them?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Not sufficiently good ones," Louis said in a peevish tone. "He's just fortunate that no lasting harm was done. I was having fun and he spoilt it. Now I need to lie down."

"Let me escort you, Majesty," Saint-Pol said. "You have had a shock and should rest."

With a final venomous look at the Musketeers, Saint-Pol led the King away.

"Aramis. You're hurt." Treville was at his side immediately.

"Just winded, Captain. Give me a moment and I'll be fine."

Porthos led him over to a stone bench and he sat gratefully. His shoulder throbbed mercilessly and his only wish was to return to the garrison to take something for the pain. Until he regained his equilibrium though he knew he wouldn't be able to ride.

"Will someone tell me what in god's name has been going on?" Treville asked.

"The King and Saint-Pol were sparring. It was obvious to all of us that the Comte was looking for trouble," D'Artagnan said. "Aramis was the closest and, when the King was disarmed, he reacted first. We had no way of knowing what was going to happen so he tackled Saint-Pol and drove him to the ground. Unfortunately, he fell too onto his injured shoulder."

"I reckon Saint-Pol was goin' to skewer the King and claim it was another accident," Porthos said angrily.

"I doubt he would commit regicide, no matter how angry he is," Treville said. "He'd likely have been strung up without the courtesy of a trial. Whatever else he is, he doesn't strike me as suicidal."

"You're probably right, Captain. I didn't stop to think," Aramis said.

"No-one can blame you for that. Your job is to protect the King and that is what you did."

"That's not how the King sees it." D'Artagnan stooped to pick up Aramis' hat and handed it to him.

"He'll come around." Treville sounded more doubtful than certain which rather diminished the force of his reassurance. "We should get you back to the garrison."

Aramis pushed himself to his feet and took a couple of tentative steps. He still felt unsteady and was grateful when Porthos caught his arm. They made their slow way back to the stables by which time Aramis was feeling more secure in his footing. He was able to mount his horse with Porthos' help and weathered his discomfort long enough to return home.

There was no sign of Athos which provoked a momentary panic before Aramis remembered that his friend had given his word that he wouldn't leave. After reassuring his companions that he wasn't in too much pain he walked to the infirmary, brewed some pain medication and retired to his room for the rest of the day.

TMTMTM

Athos, having spent a reflective few hours on his own, was in the mood for some company. He hadn't realised how late it was until he walked into the refectory to find it empty. His stomach, displeased by the lack of food, growled loudly. With a wry smile he made his way to the kitchen. It was also deserted so he lit a candle and carried it to the larder. He gathered up a loaf of bread, cheese and some cold ham and carried his make-shift meal to the table. After some rummaging around he found a half-full bottle of wine which was a very welcome addition to his repast.

Even now the loss of his pauldron felt unreal. He had gone over and over the events of the last week, trying to find the point at which he could have done something differently. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find it in him to regret striking Saint-Pol. It had been instinctive, born out of a fear that he had lost one of his brothers. In fact, if Aramis had died, he doubted that he could have controlled his anger any further. In that event, he would likely have lost his life, not just his commission.

He looked up when the door opened, glad of a respite to his gloomy thoughts. "Captain. What are you doing here?"

"I missed dinner, as did you I see. Is there enough for two?"

Athos stood up and fetched another plate and glass. He poured wine for them both. "How did it go with the Cardinal?"

"He isn't happy but he'll help. It's purely out of self-interest you understand. Saint-Pol has his eye on the Cardinal's job." He cut a slice of ham and tore a chunk of bread from the loaf. "Richelieu's been around far too long to allow the Comte to steal his position from him although his influence is much reduced."

Athos drank some wine and considered that. "Saint-Pol's influence over the King is worrying. I just wish we knew what his end game is."

"Richelieu's spies will keep an eye on him. If he makes a wrong move, we'll know about it." Treville took a bite of his dinner and sighed in satisfaction. "Have you spoken to any of the others?"

"Not since this morning. Why?" Athos was immediately on edge.

"There was an incident at the Palace. The end result was Aramis knocking Saint-Pol to the ground and the King going off in a temper."

"Is Aramis alright? His shoulder!"

"He aggravated his wound but I believe he will recover quickly."

"Was it deliberate provocation?"

"I didn't see it myself. Porthos and d'Artagnan seem to believe it was."

"I should check on him."

"I looked in on him before coming down here. He is asleep and does not appear to be in any discomfort. I will assess his fitness for duty in the morning."

Athos relaxed fractionally on hearing that. "And, what of me? I still think you are taking a risk by allowing me to stay."

"You have skills that it would be foolish to lose. I'm hiring you as an instructor in swordsmanship."

Athos looked down at the table. "You would have me face my former colleagues so all can be witness to my disgrace?"

"That is not my intent. The men know you to be honourable. Word will quickly spread of the injustice done to you. We will find a way to get back your commission."

"I know you will try your best. Forgive me if I don't get my hopes up."

"Trust us, Athos."

He did, of course, trust them implicitly. However, he had no confidence that anyone could now deflect Saint-Pol from his path; a path that could very well see him become First Minister of France. Should that happen it would be a disaster for all of them which could result in the disbanding of the regiment.

Tbc


	12. Chapter 12

I apologise for the delay in posting this chapter. Two months ago I was diagnosed with a serious illness and haven't felt like writing. Returning to the story is a form of therapy so I hope to be able to post fairly regularly.

 **Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Twelve**

Aramis was the last one down for breakfast. He held his left arm close to his side, being very careful not to jar his shoulder. He could see that the others were concerned for his well-being so he mustered up a smile. "Good morning, my friends." He sat next to Athos before reaching for a mug of ale. His wound still ached, although the virulence of the previous day had receded. Even so, and much as he might have wished it otherwise, he knew he wasn't fit for active duty.

"How do you feel?" Athos asked.

"Better than yesterday." He held up a hand before Porthos could interject. "I will ask the Captain for some less strenuous duties for the next few days. I am not recovered enough to guard the King."

"Very sensible," Porthos said.

"What about Saint-Pol?" d'Artagnan asked. "Surely he will be whispering poison into the King's ear."

"Treville has that in hand. I spoke to him last night and he is to seek an audience with the King to plead Aramis' case."

"And what of you?" Aramis asked. "Will he also plead for the return of your commission?"

"The time for that is past," Athos said, his voice composed. "Now he needs to concentrate on saving you."

"You have given up?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Unless we can uncover evidence of Saint-Pol's treachery the King will never be persuaded to change his mind."

"What if Saint-Pol isn't up to anythin'? What if he's just a bastard who likes manipulatin' people?" Porthos asked.

"Like the Cardinal you mean?"

"No d'Artagnan, he's worse than the Cardinal Richelieu, whatever else he might be, has the interests of France at heart. Saint-Pol cares only for himself." Athos' tone showed his utter contempt for the Comte.

Aramis put his hand on Athos' shoulder. "Don't despair. We will find a way to make this right."

"I know."

Aramis was distressed to see an air of melancholy surrounding his friend. Athos was rarely overtly happy, although much of the time he appeared content with his life. Now that spark that had always lit him from within was missing. He silently cursed Saint-Pol for pursuing a vendetta against one of the most honourable men he had ever known.

Perhaps sensing Aramis' unease, Athos straightened and gave a brief smile. "In the meantime, Treville has hired me as sword master. I am to teach the cadets, and help to hone the skills of the more experienced men."

"That's good then. Means you can stay in the garrison." Porthos grinned.

"The Captain is a good man," Aramis said.

They were still there when Treville descended from his office, looking grim. "Porthos, you and d'Artagnan are with me. Aramis, get checked out by the doctor. You're on light duties for the rest of the week. Athos, you're in charge of the cadets until I get back."

"I don't think…"

"I don't give a damn what you think. I need your expertise, Musketeer or not."

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Sharp blue eyes swept over them.

"Coming Captain." D'Artagnan rose hurriedly followed immediately by Porthos.

"Where are we goin'" Porthos asked.

"To the palace."

Aramis looked at Treville apprehensively. "What if the King won't listen?"

"We'll deal with that if it happens." Treville strode away followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan, leaving Aramis and Athos to their gloomy thoughts.

TMTMTM

Porthos and d'Artagnan followed Treville into the throne room. Louis, flanked by Richelieu and Saint-Pol looked at him without warmth.

"Come to plead for another of your men?" he asked.

Treville bowed before answering. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Get on with it then."

Treville drew in a deep breath. He saw Saint-Pol smiling slightly and had no difficulty understanding Athos' urge to punch the man. "Aramis was responsible for your safety, Sire. That is his sworn duty. He saw that you had been disarmed and feared injury to your royal person."

"Andre would never hurt me."

"Accidents happen," Treville continued. "I'm sure there would have been no intent but you were left vulnerable. It would have been a dereliction of duty if Aramis has stood by and done nothing."

"Captain Treville is right," Richelieu said. "Your safety is paramount."

"He acted precipitously," Louis said, although his expression had softened.

"He acted like a loyal soldier. He gave no thought to his own well-being despite lingering symptoms from his wound." He saw immediately from Saint-Pol's expression that he had just made a mistake.

"If he wasn't fit, he shouldn't have been on duty," Saint-Pol said with a sneer.

"I think he proved his fitness yesterday, don't you?" Treville was pleased to see Saint-Pol flush deeply with anger.

"I suppose I might have been a little hasty," the King said. "Aramis was just doing his duty. He will have to apologise to Andre, of course."

"I will see to it," Treville said.

Once outside the throne room he relaxed the tense muscles in his shoulder. He hadn't been certain that he could preserve Aramis' commission in the face of opposition from the Comte. However, Saint-Pol seemed to have been content with gloating over the fact that he had once again come as a humble petitioner, seeking the King's forbearance.

"That went well," d'Artagnan said, with relief.

"Yeah, I thought there'd be more opposition," Porthos added.

"Me too, which makes me wonder what Saint-Pol is up to now. Let's get back to the garrison and tell Aramis the good news. He won't like having to apologise, particularly as he did nothing wrong."

"It seems to be becomin' a habit for Musketeers to apologise to that weasel."

TMTMTM

It was three days before Aramis was cleared by the doctor. During that time, he had given much thought to his apology. Relief at retaining his commission had been mingled with anger. He didn't have the same stiff-necked pride as Athos, but it still would be no easy task to present a sincere apology to which Saint-Pol had no entitlement. Unlike with Athos, there had been no stipulation that this be public. Therefore, he sought out the Comte, eventually locating him in one of the long hallways of the palace. He bowed precisely as low as was required.

"You have kept me waiting," Saint-Pol said.

"I was following the advice of my doctor, my Lord Comte. He wouldn't allow me to return to duty until my shoulder was fully healed. I regret the delay."

"You and your friends have caused me a great deal of embarrassment."

"That was never our intent." He stood to attention, looking steadily at the Comte. "My actions the other day were hasty and ill-advised. I should not have laid hands on you."

"You were insolent. Common soldiers shouldn't touch a member of the nobility."

"I am aware of that. I trust you weren't hurt."

"No, fortunately for you. The King wouldn't have been so forgiving if I had been injured by another of his Musketeers. How is Athos? I hope Treville has sent him packing."

Aramis didn't particularly want word to reach the King that Athos was still at the garrison. "He mourns the loss of his commission but he will persevere."

"If you see him, tell him he'd better not cross my path again. If I see him, I will kill him."

"Dueling is forbidden, my lord." He would pay money to see Athos and Saint-Pol fight except that the penalty was severe and he didn't want to watch Athos hang for killing the odious man.

"I'm sure the King will forgive me." Saint-Pol stepped forward, deliberately invading Aramis' personal space. "I haven't heard an adequate apology yet."

Aramis grit his teeth to stop the words that he wanted to say. Then, he composed himself. "I apologise for knocking you to the ground. There can be no excuse. I ask for your forgiveness."

"That you will never have, Musketeer. You and your regiment will pay the price for all the humiliation heaped upon me." With a last hard glare, Saint-Pol pushed past Aramis and walked rapidly away.

Aramis let out a shaky breath. "That could have gone better," he murmured. The threat to the regiment was worrying and Saint-Pol had already shown that he was a master manipulator. They had survived this attempt to discredit them. Would they weather the next one?

Tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

The season changed, heralding in a cold and wet winter. As the days passed Athos became increasingly unsettled. Sword practice was virtually impossible. Even when the weather relented the ground was too wet and slippery for safety. Treville tried his best, involving him in the endless paperwork. Athos, intelligent and well taught, made short work of it. He could then be found increasingly in the refectory, accompanied by a bottle of wine. Boredom dulled his appetite and he began noticeably to lose weight.

It was torture to watch his three friends leave the garrison each day to attend to their duties. He missed the variety and excitement. He even missed standing to attention for endless hours on guard duty. He began to rethink his decision to stay. There were others who would welcome his sword. Many countries were embroiled in conflicts, a large proportion of their armies made up of paid mercenaries. The only reasons he hesitated were his loyalty to Treville and his close bond with his brother.

Yet he knew he couldn't live in this limbo for much longer. He had long given up any hope of regaining his commission and knew that his calling was to be a soldier, not a teacher. Fighting would be dying down for the winter but he resolved that he would leave in the spring. That would give him time to prepare the others for his departure.

Out of respect for the Captain he kept his drinking within strict bounds. He didn't want to be reprimanded for drunkenness. His self-esteem had already taken a battering and further humiliation would be more than he could bear.

He was sitting in the refectory, the aroma of dinner cooking surrounding him, when he heard voices and the door opened. Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan, all wrapped in their cloaks, walking in looking cheerful.

"Aramis found a new inn," d'Artagnan said, pulling out a chair.

"The food is good and the serving girls are pretty," Aramis added. "An intoxicating combination."

"We're goin' there tonight and you're comin' with us."

Athos raised an eyebrow at Porthos. "What if I'm happy where I am?"

"That is immaterial. Come, fetch your cloak. It is a cold night." Aramis smiled down at him.

Truthfully, he would welcome a night out. Heavy rain had kept them confined to the garrison for a week. "It appears I am outnumbered. Give me a few minutes."

He retrieved his cloak from his room and quickly rejoined his friends. Once again, he was struck by how far he had fallen. They wore their regimental issued woolen cloaks, his was sober black cloth, marking him as a civilian. Despite his gloomy thoughts he kept his face impassive. He wouldn't burden them with his bitterness.

The inn was within easy walking distance of the garrison. It was a new venture, occupying the ground floor of a three-story building. A freshly painted sign hanging outside featured a crudely drawn white swan, Le Cygne Blanc, floating serenely on a bright blue pond. Aramis led the way inside. It was doing a reasonable amount of business although it wasn't crowded. The patrons looked to be merchants and tradesmen by the cut of their clothes. The bar was a long plank propped up by four barrels. Behind the bar a tall, lean man with sparse brown hair stood polishing glasses with a rag. He looked over and gave them a welcoming smile. The air already carried the smell of beer overlaid with an enticing savory aroma.

Two young women walked between the tables taking orders and ensuring everyone had what they wanted. As Aramis said they were attractive although the smiles they bestowed on the customers had a practiced look to them. Athos reflected that theirs wasn't an easy job, growing harder as the patrons became more inebriated. He had no doubt that they often had to fight off groping hands and slurred proposals.

They walked to a large table towards the rear of the establishment. Out of habit, Athos chose the chair which gave him the best view of the entrance. They had barely sat down before one of the girls approached them.

"What can I get for you fine gentlemen?" she asked.

Aramis removed his hat and smiled broadly. "Jeanette, my lovely, how are you this evening?"

Her answering smile this time was genuine. "I am well, Monsieur Aramis. These are the friends you told me about?"

"Indeed they are. This is Porthos, Athos and d'Artagnan."

She dipped a little curtsey before returning her attention to Aramis. "Wine? Will you be wanting something to eat?"

"Two bottles of wine and whatever food is on offer." He laid a coin on the table which quickly disappeared into her apron pocket.

"How come you know them by name? You told me you'd only been here once before," Porthos asked once Jeanette had left them.

"It pays to be polite and Jeanette and I had a long conversation at the end of the night."

Athos refrained from rolling his eyes while wondering if Aramis had bedded the girl. It wouldn't be the first time he had left with a comely young woman after a night in a tavern.

The wine and glasses arrived quickly. Porthos poured and Athos sampled it, being pleasantly surprised. Not that his tastes were particularly refined now. There had been a time when only the finest vintage would have graced his table. Those days were a long way in the past.

"What news from the palace?" he asked.

"The King continues to be influenced by Saint-Pol," Aramis said. "He has missed two council meetings this week. Richelieu is looking sourer than ever."

"Then there are the banquets," d'Artagnan added. "They must be costing a fortune although the rumour is that the royal treasury is almost empty."

"He's still obsessed with the idea of buildin' a navy. I caught a glimpse of one of the drawings. A great big warship it was. I can't imagine how many men they'd need to build it or what it would cost." Porthos leaned back in his chair.

"He pays little attention to the Queen, despite the fact she is carrying his heir," Aramis said.

Athos looked at him sharply. They both had their suspicions about the paternity of the child. "It sounds like Richelieu is losing his grip."

"It certainly seems that way. Men who used to fawn all over him have started to treat him with contempt, following Saint-Pol's lead." Aramis flashed a smile at Jeanette as she carried over a tray laden with four bowls of chicken stew and a large loaf of bread.

Porthos breathed in the smell and grinned. "This looks good." He dipped his spoon in and took a mouthful. "Tastes good too," he said once he had swallowed.

For the first time in days Athos felt his hunger stirring. Despite that he only managed half a bowl and some bread before he started to feel full. He pushed the rest over to Porthos who ate it enthusiastically.

"Do you think Richelieu will be replaced?" Athos asked once the meal was over. "The King has relied on him for many years."

"Saint-Pol says it's time the Cardinal went into retirement. I've heard him spreading that about." D'Artagnan shook his head. "Who'd have thought we'd come to this. There's two factions at court now: those that back Saint-Pol and those who have remained loyal to Richelieu. I fear that trouble is coming."

"It won't be the first time an ambitious courtier has tried to unseat the Cardinal. In the end, the King always comes back to him," Aramis said.

"This time is different," Athos said thoughtfully. "He's known Saint-Pol all his life and trusts him implicitly. Added to that is the fact the Comte tells him what he wants to hear. That isn't always the case with the Cardinal."

"You're right there. There have been some arguments between the King and the Cardinal about this idea of a navy. Saint-Pol just stands back and watches the fireworks with a smirk on his face." Porthos drained his glass and reached for the wine bottle.

"Do you still think he has an ulterior motive?" Aramis asked.

Athos shrugged. "Much though I would like to believe that, there is no evidence."

"Well he's managed to maneuver things so that the people are restless. This additional taxation is crippling them," d'Artagnan said.

"Just think how much more damage he could do if he were First Minister," Aramis said gloomily. "We know he's set his sights on the Musketeers. It wouldn't surprise me if he disbanded the regiment."

"On that gloomy note, I think we should be getting back." Athos stood and put on his hat.

They stepped out into a bitterly cold wind and Athos pulled his cloak tighter around his body. When they reached the garrison one of the soldiers on guard hailed them.

"Captain Treville wants to see you. He said it's important and not to mind how late it is."

They exchanged glances before making for the Captain's office. Aramis knocked and opened the door. Treville was still behind his desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his doublet slung across the back of his chair.

"Come in." He laid his pen down. "I have received news from the Cardinal. You know that there are agents from foreign countries who live in Paris, even though there is peace with our neighbours. We, in turn have agents in other countries who report back any interesting information. It is a necessary precaution."

"What has that to do with us?" Athos asked.

"I'm getting to that. Last night Saint-Pol left the palace. It was late, after midnight. He came into the city and visited a residence known to be the home of two Englishmen."

"He was our ambassador in England for five years," Aramis said. "He could just have been visiting friends."

"At that hour of the night? No, there is something going on. The Cardinal has had these men under surveillance because he believes them to be in the pay of the English parliament, which as you know has come under the influence of the Puritans."

"Why would he associate himself with such men?" Athos asked.

"That is exactly the question we need answered," Treville said.

Athos mind was whirling. Saint-Pol had expressed his contempt for the sober atmosphere in England among the royal court as well as the members of parliament. Why, then would he be meeting in secret with agents of the English parliament? He felt the first stirrings of excitement. Maybe they had just found the first chink in his armour. If he was conspiring with the English it didn't bode well for the King or the country. And, if they could persuade the King of Saint-Pol's perfidy maybe there was hope that he could regain his commission.

Tbc


	14. Chapter 14

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

By the next morning the initial euphoria had worn off. They now had good grounds to suspect that Saint-Pol was up to something. That it involved the English was a surprise. However, they were no closer to finding out the specifics or of having any proof to present to the King. They still had to go on duty, leaving Athos behind, something that tore at their hearts each day.

Athos had been without his commission for weeks and was becoming more withdrawn as the time passed. Today, though, he looked more cheerful. Aramis only hoped that would continue. Treville was going to consult with Richelieu to see what more they could do. He had absolutely forbidden them from vising the home of the English agents, despite fierce opposition from all of them. Athos had become very quiet after that, leading Aramis to wonder what was going through his brother's mind.

As it was Sunday the Musketeers gathered in the chapel to await the royal family. The pews were already crowded and the Priest stood patiently waiting by the chancel rail. Aramis crossed himself before taking up his position by the rear wall and to the left of the door.

Richelieu entered, gave the three of them a hard look, and walked down the aisle to his customary place on the second row. The front row was reserved for the King and Queen. Moments later Louis walked in with the Queen by his side. Aramis' gaze followed her. Her pregnancy had started to show and she was glowing with good health. He knew, from speaking with one of her ladies, that the first three months had been hard. She had been sick most mornings and had looked wan and tired. He was glad to see that it had passed. The lady in question, following the Queen, gave him a flirtatious smile. He kept his face impassive and saw her smile fade to be replaced by a frown.

Soon he lost himself in the beauty of the service. He heard Porthos and d'Artagnan shifting their positions, as boredom set in. Neither were overly religious and found the lengthy proceedings to be a trial. It was part way through, as the Priest started to administer the sacrament, that he noticed Saint-Pol. The Comte had turned around to stare at him. He couldn't interpret the look on the man's face and that worried him.

Once the service was over Louis stood and offered his arm to the Queen. Aramis bowed as the couple passed him. There was no need to follow. Other Musketeers would take up that duty leaving them free for the rest of the day. He was relaxing his vigilance when Saint-Pol came to a halt beside him.

"Is it true that Athos is still at the garrison?"

Aramis' heart thumped painfully. "Why do you ask?"

"He was dismissed in disgrace. If Treville has allowed him to stay he has flouted the King's wishes. Now, answer the question."

"He was retained as an instructor and permitted to keep his room. It is for the Captain to decide who stays and who goes."

"Insolent churl! You would disobey your King?"

"Athos is the finest swordsman in Paris." Treville's voice came from behind Aramis. "It would have been negligent of me to lose that expertise. Isn't stripping him of his commission enough?"

"No, it isn't. You have two days, Captain, to toss him out before I take this to the King." Having delivered his ultimatum Saint-Pol walked out of the chapel.

"How did he find out about Athos?" Porthos asked.

"That isn't important. What matters is getting to the King first and pleading for Athos to be allowed to stay."

"What if he refuses?" d'Artagnan looked distressed at the thought of losing his brother and mentor.

"Then Athos will have to leave. I'm sorry, but I can't go against a direct order."

"We understand," Aramis said, although his stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.

Treville looked at them sympathetically. "I will do my best. Ah, there's the Cardinal. I want to speak to him about what his spies uncovered. Wait for me outside."

TMTMTM

Treville followed Richelieu to the Cardinal's study where they could talk privately. He took note of the courtiers who were gathered in groups, gossiping. Talk died down as Richelieu passed but the normal deferential bows were absent and mocking laughter followed the pair of them as the proceeded along the hallway.

"Those fools think my influence with the King is at an end," Richelieu said as he took a seat behind his desk. His colour was high and he looked irritated.

"I have heard rumours that Saint-Pol is to replace you as First Minister."

"Wishful thinking on the part of my enemies. I have too much knowledge and experience for the King to cast me aside."

"Let us hope so."

"Really, Captain? I thought you would be happy to see me gone. It isn't as if we have always seen eye to eye."

"Having Saint-Pol in charge of the country would be a disaster. I might not approve of your methods, but I know you will always put France before your own interests."

"How touching."

"Perhaps we could turn to the matter at hand. What do we know of these Englishmen that Saint-Pol visited?"

"They are loosely connected to the English Ambassador. Neither has been in the country very long and they are known to be linked with some of the dissident land owners who are angry about the increased taxation. They dress in black, leading me to think they favour the Puritan faction in parliament, although no-one has ever reported that they speak of religion."

"It seems a tenuous link."

"Perhaps, but we must be ever vigilant. Trouble can come from the most unexpected sources."

"What could Saint-Pol want with them?"

"I wish I knew the answer. He arrived furtively and was unaccompanied, which is strange."

"How to we proceed? We could bring them in for questioning?" Treville suggested.

"That would get back to the Ambassador who, I am sure, would appeal to the King. We don't want Louis knowing about this until we have enough evidence to bury Saint-Pol."

"Gathering evidence could take months. Who knows what damage he could cause in that time."

"I don't disagree but moving against him precipitously will only back-fire on us."

"So, we do nothing," Treville said flatly.

"We watch and we wait. Eventually Saint-Pol will make a mistake."

"But, will it be in time to save country?"

TMTMTM

Athos waited for Treville to leave before walking out of the garrison. The rain had held off but it was still cold and blustery. He pulled his hat down low over his face, regretting the loss of his leathers. His plain doublet and breeches didn't provide nearly as much protection against the weather. At least he still had all his weapons.

The Englishmen's house was a detached property on a quiet residential street and looked to be in a good state of repair. Surveilling it wouldn't be easy as there were no side streets or alleys down which he could hide. After looking around he found a spot in the shade of a mature cherry tree from where he had a good view of the front door.

Although he felt guilty for disobeying Treville's order, he knew that he was doing the right thing. As he was no longer a Musketeer there was nothing the Captain could do about it. He was subject to some enquiring looks from the occasional passers-by although the street was quiet. Almost everyone would be in church. He wondered if his quarry were in the house, or attending a service somewhere. It might have been enlightening to see which church they attended.

He was chilled to the bone but nothing would make him relinquish his quest. He huddled into his cloak, thankful that it wasn't raining. The sky was dark with clouds hiding the weak winter sun. A light drizzle started and he sighed. There were more people around now. Presumably the services had finished and folk would be returning home for lunch. It hadn't occurred to him to bring any food but he was wound too tight to be hungry.

There were footsteps on the pavement behind him. He didn't bother turning around to look, assuming it was another homeward bound churchgoer. The footsteps stopped and he felt a knife pricking the skin of his back.

"Don't do anything to attract attention," a voice whispered in his ear. "I would hate to have to slide this knife between your ribs."

"What do you want?" Athos kept his hands away from his weapons.

"I think I would rather discuss this indoors, away from prying eyes. Walk ahead of me please. Round to the back of the house you have been watching so intently for the past few hours."

Athos moved forward. His assailant followed closely, keeping the knife pressed against his back. He crossed the street and walked down the side of the house. As he was ushered in through the back door he wondered if he would ever leave it alive.

Tbc


	15. Chapter 15

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

A fist connected with Athos' left cheek. Blood began to pool in his mouth. He looked straight at his attacker and spat. Bloody saliva hit the rug, staining it a deep red. The two men in front of him exchanged irritated glances. He'd lost track of the length of time they'd been beating him but clearly, they were getting frustrated by his continued silence.

Both men were soberly dressed in black doublets and hose with pristine white shirts. They spoke French although their accents betrayed their heritage as Englishmen. Neither of them were distinctive to look at. Tall, well built, one with light brown and one with darker hair, they would pass in the streets without attracting attention.

Another blow added to his tally of bruises. His left eye was swollen, hindering his ability to see. Blood dripped from his nose onto his shirt. There was a cut above his right eyebrow caused by a ring one of the men wore. His face was a mass of pain. So far, he hadn't uttered a sound, not even a groan. That wouldn't last much longer.

He pulled fruitlessly against the rope around his wrists. They were tethered to the back of the chair with more rope encircling his ankles. He was trapped and helpless and couldn't count on rescue.

"Who are you? Why were you watching this house?"

More blows followed eliciting a moan. He began to feel dizzy as his grip on consciousness wavered. His head became too heavy and he slumped forward. If it hadn't been for his bonds he was sure he would have slid to the floor to lie in an undignified heap.

The assault ceased and he heard the men walk away. They were talking too quietly for him to hear the words through the buzzing noise in his ears. He lifted his head to look around. He was in a small back room, dimly lit as the curtains had been pulled closed. He could call out, but who would hear him? They were far enough away from the street that no sounds intruded. No, he would only invite more violence.

He cursed his carelessness. He was growing lax now that he was no longer a Musketeer. He also had cause to regret disobeying Treville's order. Would the others work out where he had gone? Even if they did, they'd have no reason to think he'd been captured. More likely they would assume he was in a tavern somewhere, drowning his sorrows.

One of the men left the room and he looked warily at his remaining captor. He was examining his knuckles, which Athos was pleased to note were grazed and slightly swollen. At least he wasn't the only one suffering.

"Your continued silence will do you no good. We will find out your identity."

Athos doubted that. They could hardly go around giving out his description and asking if anyone knew him. In this instance, the lack of his uniform was a blessing. He closed his eyes against a growing headache, wishing the man would go away and leave him alone. Something pressed against his lips and he instinctively jerked backwards, his eyes opening.

"It's just water."

He looked down to see the man was holding a cup full of a clear liquid. He nodded to indicate his willingness to drink. The cool water was a blessing. It slid easily down his parched throat. "Thank you."

"We are not monsters. However, we will have answers from you. There is too much at stake."

"You're wasting your time." The cup was taken away and set down on a small table. Athos looked at it longingly.

"You will talk eventually. Why not save yourself the pain?"

Athos had to stop himself from laughing. It was a classic interrogation technique. Pain followed by some act of kindness and then the promise of further agony if he didn't cooperate. How often had he used the same tactics on suspects? His preference, though, had always been to elicit answers without the violence.

His captor shook his head at his stubbornness, his lips pursed into a hard line. "If you won't listen to reason we shall begin again."

Athos sighed and steeled himself for the first blow.

TMTMTM

They were all in a low mood when they returned to the garrison. Treville's description of his interview with Richelieu had dampened all their enthusiasm. There was no sign of Athos, a fact which didn't unduly worry Aramis. It was too cold for training and he suspected Athos had gone to his room to try and stay warm. Treville excused himself and went to his office. They decided to spend the afternoon sitting by the fire in the refectory and they passed the time playing cards. Porthos, in deference to their friendship, didn't cheat. Although, Aramis thought, maybe he was just getting better at it and they hadn't noticed.

Darkness fell early and other Musketeers began to drift in, waiting for their dinner. He could hear Serge grumbling to the kitchen boy and could smell the aroma of meat roasting on the spit. Soon enough the boy came in burdened by a large tureen of winter vegetables. He set it on the table and scurried away. A few minutes later Serge carried in a platter of meat.

"Come on then," he said impatiently. "Get it while its hot."

Aramis joined the line and, when his turn came, loaded up his plate with pork, potatoes and carrots. It was only then that he realised he still hadn't seen Athos. He put his plate down. "I'm going to fetch Athos," he told Porthos who had followed him over with his own meal. "Pour me some wine, will you? I won't be long."

He stepped out into the cold night air and walked quickly to Athos' room. He knocked and waited. When he received no answer, he pushed the door open only to find the room empty. He frowned. It wasn't like Athos to leave the garrison without some word as to his whereabouts. He returned to the refectory. "Has anyone seen Athos this afternoon?"

"He left hours ago," Phillipe said. "I saw him while I was on guard duty."

"Did he say where he was going?"

Phillipe shook his head. "He looked distracted, as if he had a lot on his mind."

Aramis rejoined his companions and looked at them worriedly. "Where can he have gone?"

"You don't think…?" D'Artagnan paused. "He wouldn't have disobeyed Treville and gone to that house?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Porthos said.

"The Captain will have a fit if that's true." Aramis ran a hand through his hair as he considered their options. "We should go and check."

"Won't Treville object?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Undoubtedly, which is why we aren't telling him. Come on."

Porthos looked unhappily at his half-eaten meal but didn't object. It took them twenty minutes to walk to their destination. When they arrived the street lamps had been lit and only a few people were outside braving the cold. The house looked deserted and there was no sign of Athos.

"D'you think he went to confront them?" Porthos asked.

"I don't think even Athos would go that far. No, I suspect he gave up and is warming himself in a tavern nearby."

Two men on horseback turned into the street and rode up to the house. Aramis stepped back, away from the lamplight. They dismounted, tied their horses to a rail, and walked to the front door. Before entering one of them turned around and his hood fell back. Aramis hissed in surprise.

"Saint-Pol! What's he doing here?"

"Nothin' good."

"As we're here we should see what we can find out," d'Artagnan said. "At least we have further evidence of him consorting with the English spies."

"True." Aramis made up his mind. "I'm going to look at the back of the house. You two keep watch here."

"Don't get into trouble," Porthos warned.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Aramis flashed a warm smile before running quickly across the street and disappearing down the alleyway between two houses. He pressed his back up against the brickwork and peered around the corner. There was no-one in the back yard so he continued to move cautiously until he was crouched under a window. The curtains were drawn but he could see a glimmer of candlelight. There was a slight gap between the two curtains and he eased himself up to try and see through. He found that he was looking at Saint-Pol's back. The man was gesticulating but he couldn't hear what was being said. After a minute Saint-Pol half turned away and took a couple of steps to his left. Aramis' eyes widened.

"Athos," he whispered on the ghost of a breath.

Tbc


	16. Chapter 16

With thanks to Dee for helping me out of the corner I had written myself into. As a thank you there is a little bit of Aramis whump ahead.

 **Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

Loud angry voices roused Athos. He was reluctant to return to the world of pain but his peace had been shattered. He supposed that he must have lost consciousness although his memory was blurred. He found that only one eye was working and even then he had to pry apart lashes that were sticky with blood. It took some concentrated effort to focus.

The man who had been most enthusiastic in questioning him was embroiled in an argument with another man who had his back to Athos. The newcomer wore courtier's clothing, his doublet a rich green and a short yellow cloak hanging from one shoulder. The brightness of the colours hurt Athos' one working eye and he closed it momentarily. When he opened it again the courtier had turned around and was staring at him. With a shock that reverberated through his whole body he realised it was Saint-Pol.

"You fools." Saint-Pol turned to the two Englishmen. "This man knows who I am."

"How were we to know that?" the man with the darker hair asked belligerently. "He was watching the house. We had to find out what he knows."

"Yet, despite your efforts, he has told you nothing."

"How do you know?"

"He's a former Musketeer and one of the most stubborn men I have ever encountered. His name is Athos and his one aim in life is to bring about my downfall. Are you sure he was alone?"

"Positive."

Saint-Pol walked closer and put a finger under Athos' chin to tip his face up. Athos licked his bruised and cut lips and tried to still his fast-beating heart.

"You are more resourceful than I gave you credit for. How did you find this house?"

"I'm not your only enemy." His voice was scratchy, lacking its usual self-assurance.

"Ah. Richelieu. Well, that's no surprise. The King is very close to dispensing with his services."

"To be replaced by you."

Saint-Pol's smile was unpleasant. "Of course." His expression darkened. "He owes me for letting me rot in England for five years." In his agitation, he threw his arms up in the air.

"That's what this is about? You'd destroy France because you're bearing a grudge?" Athos asked incredulously.

"You know nothing about me."

"Then, why not tell me? I assume you're going to kill me so where's the harm?" Athos was counting on the Comte's arrogant need to prove to everyone around him that he was the better man. Not that he'd get the chance to make use of any confession.

"You are right. Your life is forfeit." Saint-Pol moved away, his brow creased in thought. "It isn't my intent to destroy France, as you seem to think. My mission is to bring it to grace through a change of monarch and religion."

Battling with a virulent headache and a face exploding with pain it took Athos a minute to process what Saint-Pol had said. "You're a Huguenot?"

"I was brought to a true understanding of the faith."

"You're mad." A back handed slap across the face made the pain flare to even more excruciating heights.

"You will show me the respect my rank demands."

The barest hint of laughter left Athos' mouth. "Respect? You would plunge the kingdom into civil war. Thousands would die and all to fuel your ambition. What are your plans for the King: for the child the Queen is carrying?"

"Accidents happen and it isn't unusual for babies to die young. A tragedy to be sure but also an opportunity."

"The hunt," Athos said, putting the pieces together. "That's why you were so angry with Aramis for shooting the boar. It would have suited your plans if the King had been gored."

"It was a perfect chance to get rid of Louis except that your friend interfered. He got in my way again later, too, during the sword practice. I wasn't planning to kill the King but even the smallest of wounds can become infected to the point of death."

"Who would you see on the throne?" Athos drew in a shocked breath. "Gaston."

"Gaston is weak and easily led. He could be persuaded to bring the country to the true religion."

"With you by his side as First Minister."

Saint-Pol nodded before turning to his English companions. "After I leave kill him and dispose of the body. His friends will undoubtedly miss him but it should be easy enough to persuade them that he left Paris because of his disgrace."

"You underestimate them," Athos said. "They won't rest until they find out the truth."

"Once I replace Richelieu I will disband the Musketeers. Your friends will be reassigned to different regiments. Regiments that are sent to fight for one of our allies. They'll be too busy trying to stay alive to worry about you. Goodbye, Athos. You have been a surprisingly worthy opponent." He whirled around when a loud scraping noise sounded outside. "What's that?" He drew his sword. "Watch him." He walked to the back door and pulled it open.

TMTMTM

After verifying that Athos was in the house and in trouble, Aramis had returned to his companions. They conversed quickly and came up with a plan. All acknowledged that their actions could lead to trouble both within and outside the country and none cared. Their only thought was to save Athos. They were evenly matched with the three inside the house but needed a distraction otherwise Athos could become a casualty in the first moments of the fight. It was agreed that they would try to avoid too much bloodshed. Killing citizens of a friendly country would have serious repercussions, as would killing Saint-Pol.

Aramis returned to the rear of the house, leaving Porthos and d'Artagnan to take up position at the front door. He gave them a minute before drawing his sword and scraping it across the brickwork. The result was a high-pitched noise which would undoubtedly be heard inside the building.

When the back door opened he was ready. He lunged but his blow was blocked by another sword. He backed away, smiling when he saw who he was facing. He'd watched Saint-Pol's technique during the sparring match with the King. The Comte was a more than competent swordsman. Unfortunately for him he was facing a highly trained soldier. There was an initial look of shock on Saint-Pol's face which was quickly replaced by determination.

They crossed swords again in a series of moves with which Aramis was intimately familiar. He disengaged, stepped back and began to circle his opponent. Saint-Pol turned to keep him in sight. When Aramis attacked again he quickly gained the upper hand and slashed Saint-Pol's arm. There was a hiss of pain before Saint-Pol backed away again.

"If you kill me you'll hang," Saint-Pol said viciously.

"I don't need to kill you." Aramis moved again, this time inflicting a deep cut on Saint-Pol's leg. Blood flowed freely from both wounds. "If you don't get those seen to quickly you will bleed to death. I suggest you surrender your sword."

"Never."

This time it was Saint-Pol who attacked. He drove Aramis backwards before executing the move that had disarmed the King. Although Aramis retained his grip on his sword he was momentarily left exposed. The tip of Saint-Pol's sword penetrated his previously wounded shoulder and he gasped at the pain.

Furious with himself for allowing the Comte to score a point he moved in with the intent of ending the battle. He relentlessly pounded at Saint-Pol's sword, driving the Comte back across the grass in the yard. He carefully maneuvered his opponent towards a small wall surrounding a flower bed. When Saint-Pol's heel collided with the wall he was thrown off balance. Aramis, who had his own tricks, sent his enemy's sword flying. He rested the tip of his sword against Saint-Pol's throat.

"You will surrender, Monsieur," he said.

Tbc


	17. Chapter 17

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

A familiar piercing whistle from inside the house reassured Aramis that it was safe to enter. He indicated with a flick of his sword that Saint-Pol should precede him. The Comte was pale, blood seeping from the cuts to his arm and leg. Aramis didn't fare much better. His shoulder was on fire, with blood running down his skin. He saw Saint-Pol regarding him speculatively.

"If you try to run I will kill you," Aramis said. Now that he had the upper hand he wasn't about to relinquish it.

They walked through the doorway and into the room where he had seen Athos. D'Artagnan was holding the two Englishmen at bay with a brace of pistols. Neither man looked to be injured.

Porthos was using his main gauche to saw through the ropes tethering Athos to the chair. Athos, his face swollen and marred by cuts and bruises, looked on the verge of collapse.

"Sit there and keep quiet." Aramis pointed to a chair.

Saint-Pol sat and glared at him. "I need my wounds tended."

"In a minute." Aramis lowered his sword and turned to Porthos. "How is he?"

"They gave him one hell of a beatin'. Can't see anything life threatenin' though."

Athos raised his head sluggishly. "I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Aramis smiled as relief coursed through him. "However, none of us will be fine once Treville finds out what's happened." He began to feel dizzy and sought a chair of his own.

D'Artagnan glanced at him and frowned. "You're bleeding."

"An occupational hazard."

Porthos stayed by Athos, steadying him. "What happened?"

"I was careless. It's nothing and will soon mend."

"While you're sitting there doing nothing I'm bleeding to death," Saint-Pol whined petulantly.

Aramis sighed. "Is there a medical kit here?" he asked their prisoners.

"In the kitchen." Both men stood sullenly under the threat of d'Artagnan's pistols.

Aramis got up slowly and waited for his head to clear. A quick search of the kitchen revealed a basic kit with bandages, a needle and thread. He filled a large pot with water and put it on the stove to heat. Then he rummaged around until he found some clean rags.

Once the water had warmed through he poured some into a bowl and carried it to the back room. The atmosphere had become decidedly toxic in his absence. Someone had found some rope and bound the Englishmen's wrists. They were now sitting uncomfortably at the table. Athos had been transferred to an arm chair where he slouched with his eyes closed. Saint-Pol was glaring equally at d'Artagnan and Porthos. There were beads of perspiration on his forehead and the rug beneath his feet had become bloodstained.

Aramis put the bowl on the table. "Take off your doublet and shirt," he instructed.

"I need help."

"Do it yourself." His patience was at an end and his strength was waning.

Saint-Pol stripped to the waist and held out his arm. Aramis examined it. "The cut isn't too deep. It should heal without stitches." He dipped a rag in the water and began to clean away the blood. The Comte flinched once and then sat still. Aramis poured some water over the cut to flush out any particles of dirt before drying the skin. He tied a bandage around Saint-Pol's arm and turned his attention to the leg wound.

"This one's deeper." Once again he cleaned it out before threading the needle. "This is going to hurt." Unfortunately his conscience wouldn't let him inflict more pain than necessary. He worked quickly, inserting small neat stitches.

Saint-Pol had drawn in a pained breath as the needle punctured his skin and now sat with his hands gripping the arms of the chair. Once Aramis had tied off the last stitch he bandaged the wound and straightened up. While concentrating on his task he had been able to block out his own pain but it now returned full force. He staggered slightly and found Porthos at his elbow to support him.

"Sit down." Porthos led him over to the only other comfortable chair in the room.

"I should check on Athos," he protested.

"He's asleep. Let me check your wound."

Porthos helped him to remove his weapons belt, sash and coat. His once white shirt was now stained red although the flow of blood had greatly decreased.

Porthos tutted as he examined it. "It just missed the area where you were shot. Stay still while I clean it."

Soon Aramis shoulder was swathed in a bandage. He leaned back wearily.

"What are you going to do with us?" one of the Englishmen asked.

"Good question," Aramis murmured.

"We're going to let them go." Athos had one eye open with the other being swollen shut.

"We are?" Porthos asked.

"After what they did to you?" D'Artagnan sounded outraged.

"They are citizens of a foreign power. If we arrest them it will create problems for the King."

"To hell with that," Porthos said angrily.

"Porthos," Athos said in a chiding tone. "You know your duty to the King comes before your own interests."

"I believe Athos is right," Aramis said. "We have no jurisdiction over their actions."

"What about him?" Porthos pointed to Saint-Pol.

"We take him to Treville. I know what he's planning now and will explain it when we get back to the garrison."

"No-one will believe you. Your reputation is in tatters and it will be seen as the ramblings of a man desperate to cause trouble for me because I was the catalyst for your disgrace."

"Perhaps," Athos conceded. "Nonetheless we are now forewarned." He got slowly to his feet. "Cut them loose, d'Artagnan." He turned to the Englishmen. "If you want my advice, get out of France as quickly as you can. Tell your masters that their plan failed."

TMTMTM

The journey back to the garrison took some time. Athos was unsteady and Saint-Pol was noticeably limping. When they arrived Athos sent d'Artagnan for the Captain and suggested that they all wait in the infirmary.

When Treville entered the room he was beyond furious and it was obvious that d'Artagnan had told him some of the story. However, once he saw how battered Athos was and that Aramis was also injured some of the heat went out of his ire.

"Do you want to explain to me what on earth you've been up to? And, why is he here?" he gestured angrily at Saint-Pol who was lying on one of the beds.

Athos took a deep breath and began explaining what had occurred. He could see their growing horror as he described the plot to kill the King and to dispose of the infant that the Queen was carrying. His gaze strayed to Aramis who had gone quite pale.

"So, the question is, what do we do now?" he concluded.

Treville ran a hand through his short hair. "D'Artagnan, watch our guest. The rest of you come to my office."

He offered them chairs in deference to their injuries and brought out a bottle of brandy and some glasses. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

They drank in silence, waiting for Treville to give them guidance.

"The King will never believe this without evidence," the Captain said. "Saint-Pol knows that. Damn, why did the King have to have such a duplicitous family? First his mother and now his brother."

"It isn't clear that Gaston is directly involved," Athos said. The alcohol had stung his cut mouth but had still been welcome. In fact, he wouldn't have refused if Treville had offered another drink.

"You're giving him too much credit," Treville said. "He's spent his life plotting to take over the throne."

"Do we know where he is?" Aramis asked.

"Last I heard he was in Flanders. That was after the King exiled him for his latest misdemeanors. He could easily have crossed to England. After all, their sister is the Queen."

"We can't just let Saint-Pol go. He's admitted that he's plotting to kill the King. How can we let him get close to the royal family knowing that?" Aramis asked.

Athos knew very well where Aramis' main concern lay. Not that he could make any comment without causing a scandal that would rock the country just as surely as if Gaston made a bid for the throne.

"We'll hold him here tonight," Treville said. "If any questions are asked we can say he was attacked in the streets and took refuge here. He won't contradict us. He has too much to lose. These machinations are too much for a military man like me. We need to involve an expert."

"The Cardinal," Athos said.

"Yes. I'll arrange to speak with him first thing tomorrow. One way or another we will keep the King safe."

Tbc


	18. Chapter 18

**Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

Athos spent an uncomfortable night. Aramis had cleaned the blood from his face, applying a medicinal ointment to the worst of the bruises. He said it would help the swelling to subside. After a dose of pain medication, he was dispatched to bed with instructions to rest. Unfortunately, the pain woke him each time he slipped into an uneasy dose. When he finally rose at dawn he found the swelling around his eye had slightly improved so that at least his vision was clear. The rest of his face was a mess which only time could mend.

He made his way down to breakfast, taking a detour to the infirmary. Porthos was on guard duty and Saint-Pol looked to be still asleep. Porthos followed him outside so that they could talk.

"How is he?" Athos asked.

"Bein' a pain in my arse," Porthos said irritably. "He does nothin' but complain. Insisted on seein' Aramis in the middle of the night because of the pain, completely ignorin' the fact that Aramis was injured too."

"What did Aramis do?" Athos asked with interest.

"Gave him some more of that foul-tasting pain draught and told him to shut up. Let's just say he wasn't his usual carin' self. He looked pretty rough so I sent him back to bed."

"Is Saint-Pol still making threats?"

"Oh, yes. Doesn't shut up about how close he is to the King and how he could strip all of us of our commissions."

"The King would have his head if he knew the truth."

"Pity you're not still a Comte. He'd listen to you then."

"That's in the past."

"It'd give Saint-Pol somethin' to think about too."

"I'm sure it would but I renounced my title." Discussion of his past still made Athos uncomfortable and dredged up memories he would rather keep hidden.

"Still think it's a shame."

"I had no use for it." Athos thought ruefully that Porthos was right. Had he still been a nobleman he could have accused Saint-Pol with impunity. He thought fleetingly of invoking his family name before discounting it. The King was unlikely to understand why he had abandoned his life to become a common soldier and he didn't want to face the inevitable questions.

"How do you feel this morning?" Porthos asked.

"I am as you see. It is sore but not in any way disabling."

"Athos." Treville walked down the steps from his office. "You're coming with me to see the Cardinal. I want him to hear a first-hand account of this plot. Porthos, under no circumstances is Saint-Pol to be released without my permission."

"Don't worry, Captain. He isn't goin' anywhere."

TMTMTM

They had quite a battle to get in to see the Cardinal. His secretary insisted that Richelieu was busy and wouldn't have time to see them until the next day. Finally, in frustration, Treville said that it concerned a plot against the crown. Within two minutes they were standing before the Cardinal's desk.

Richelieu eyed Athos curiously. "What happened to you? And, why are you here? You're no longer a Musketeer."

"Athos had uncovered a plot to kill the King and do away with the Queen's child. He was captured by two of the conspirators who tortured him for information."

"That was careless of you," Richelieu said but he was sitting forward listening intently. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. What did you discover?"

For the second time Athos related his story. Throughout the Cardinal didn't move except that his expression became more and more concerned.

"Where is Saint-Pol now?"

"Under detention at the garrison but I can't hold him too much longer. The King has probably already noticed his absence."

"Undoubtedly. They are rarely away from each other's side. What a pity you didn't hear this tale, Captain. The King would have listened to you. He won't believe the word of a former soldier who was dishonorably discharged without some compelling evidence."

"We'd worked that out for ourselves," Treville said. He visibly struggled to rein in his temper. "What do we do now?"

"Well, first we tell the King about the plot without mentioning Saint-Pol. He doesn't need to know how we found out. Then we double his guard and watch our devious Comte like a hawk. I'll send a message to my agents in London, asking them to make enquiries. What happened to the two Englishmen?"

"We let them go."

"Unfortunate but probably wise. King Charles wouldn't take kindly to the detention of his citizens and we can't afford to have bad blood between the two countries right now. It won't surprise you to know that we are almost bankrupt thanks to this scheme to build a navy. We'd be hard pressed to put troops in the field if it came to conflict with England."

"What about Saint-Pol?" Treville asked.

"Release him. I'm sure he can come up with a plausible story to explain his injuries and disappearance from Court. He can hardly tell the truth after all. I have an audience with the King this afternoon and will tell him then." The Cardinal turned to Athos. "It appears we owe you a debt of gratitude. However, your role in this must remain a secret, at least for now. Maybe when this is all over the King might reinstate your commission."

Athos bowed but didn't respond. They were still a long way from stopping Saint-Pol and he wasn't going to hold out false hope.

TMTMTM

Saint-Pol smirked when told by Treville that he was free to leave. Athos' only satisfaction was that the Comte was still limping and that he had his arm in a sling. They had agreed the story he would tell the King. Athos just hoped he could be trusted to stick to the script.

Having missed breakfast, he went to the kitchen and talked Serge into giving him some bread and cheese. He found a pale and tired Aramis sitting in the refectory.

"You should be in bed," Athos admonished.

"I had to redress Saint-Pol's wounds and anyway I was too restless to sleep. Come and keep me company. How do you fare?"

The activity of the morning had resulted in a throbbing headache which he wasn't about to admit to. He shrugged nonchalantly instead. "The bruising will fade and the swelling has already started to reduce. How's your shoulder?"

"It isn't too bad if I don't move my arm. I fear though that it will be a few days before I am fit for duty. How was your meeting with the Cardinal?"

"He is going to alert the King but Saint-Pol is safe for now. I can't see him trying anything now, when he's being watched so closely. Enquiries will be made in England and that might yield some credible evidence."

"You don't sound entirely convinced."

"I'm not but it is the best we can do."

"It is galling that we had to release him. He has admitted to treason and that should be enough to condemn him."

"That isn't the way the world works. To make an accusation against a courtier and a favourite of the King is a serious matter. He would deny everything and Louis would believe him," Athos said sadly.

I know. It's just frustrating."

"I wonder how the King will react when he is told about the plot to kill him?"

"He isn't a coward so I doubt if he will hide himself away. He'll have to accept the extra security though. Treville will insist upon that."

"We don't know if there are other conspirators in the city, or even in the palace. I believe the King is safe from Saint-Pol for the time being but what if there are others?" Athos sighed and gave a rueful smile. "I don't know why I am so concerned. It isn't my business any longer."

Aramis leant over and tapped Athos' chest over his heart. "In here you will always be a Musketeer."

Athos acknowledged that as the truth. Unfortunately, there wasn't a thing he could do to protect the King and Queen. He studied Aramis closely. It was even more worrying for his brother. He didn't doubt that Aramis loved the Queen, however unwise that might be. He was also convinced of the parentage of the child the Queen was carrying. For the plot to succeed the child would have to die. It was unbelievably callous, yet Athos wouldn't for a minute discount Saint-Pol's ability to commit such a heinous act. By releasing Saint-Pol they had let the fox back into the hen house. Now they had to stop him wreaking havoc.

Tbc


	19. Chapter 19

We have reached the final chapter. Thank you for reading and to everyone who left reviews. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

 **Yesterday's Man**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

Porthos and d'Artagnan were on duty that afternoon when Richelieu had his audience with the King. For once Saint-Pol wasn't there. No doubt he was holed up somewhere to recover from his wounds. Before the Cardinal could do more than bow the King launched into an angry tirade.

"Andre was attacked last night in the city. This lawlessness is getting out of hand. What are you going to do about it Cardinal? It happened close to the Musketeer garrison. Why weren't the perpetrators apprehended? Can't Treville even keep the environs of the garrison safe for law-abiding folk?" He glared at Porthos and d'Artagnan who looked stoically ahead and said nothing.

"I trust he wasn't seriously hurt," Richelieu said with false solicitude.

"Sword cuts to the arm and leg. He could have been killed."

"A most unfortunate situation."

"Unfortunate?" The King's voice rose to a barely contained shout. "It's far worse than that. I want the patrols doubled and trouble makers harshly dealt with."

"I'm afraid we have a more serious problem, Sire."

"What could be more serious than this?"

"My spies have uncovered a plot to kill you and put Gaston on the throne."

"I like how he's takin' credit for it," Porthos whispered.

"The Cardinal always turns everything to his own advantage."

"A plot?" The King's high colour had faded and his voice shook slightly.

"It involves the English Protestants and the Huguenots. They wish to overthrow the throne and put a puppet king in your stead."

"But Gaston isn't a Huguenot."

"Your brother, Sire, would embrace the devil himself if it meant becoming King."

The King sat back and Porthos could see his hands trembling.

"What of my child? The Queen?"

"I'm afraid the child wouldn't survive."

Louis leapt to his feet and gripped the Cardinal's sleeve. "The Queen mustn't find out. Do you hear me? She is not to be told."

"Of course," Richelieu said soothingly. "Might I also suggest that we keep it between the two of us? Who knows how far the conspiracy has spread."

"What are you doing about it?"

"I am making further enquiries in England. It appears the plan was hatched there. We will, of course, increase security on you and the Queen but it will be unobtrusive."

"Yes, yes. Come to me as soon as you receive news." Louis returned to his chair and directed a shaky smile at his First Minister. "What would I do without you, Cardinal? I can always trust you to look after my safety."

Richelieu bowed. "My only concern is to serve you."

"That's got him back in the King's good graces," Porthos said admiringly.

"Yes. It won't make it easy for Saint-Pol to unseat him now.

TMTMTM

The weeks passed slowly for Athos. Each time Treville returned from the palace he would look eagerly for news, only to have the Captain shake his head. The weather had improved allowing Athos an outlet for his frustrations. There had been a noticeable improvement in the cadet's swordsmanship and that, at least, was a source of pride.

He knew from talking to the others that Saint-Pol had made a full recovery from his wounds and that he was as close as ever to the King. Fortunately, though, there had been no more 'accidents'. Security had been increased and there was growing evidence that the Cardinal was back in the King's good graces. Courtiers who had been snubbing him were now flocking to gain his attention. The shifting balance of power had tilted back in Richelieu's favour.

Athos was on the verge of giving up his tenuous hope when Treville rode into the garrison and beckoned him over.

"Find the others. I have news."

Aramis was in the armory, Porthos and d'Artagnan in the stables. He quickly gathered them together and they headed for Treville's office.

The Captain didn't bother with any pleasantries. "The Cardinal has the evidence we need to take down Saint-Pol. He has sworn statements from two of the Protestant English Lords proving that he changed his religion. Apparently he didn't make himself very popular with his extreme views. Then there is evidence from one of his co-conspirators who has had a change of heart." He smiled ruefully. "It might be as well not to enquire too closely about that. If we add to that the confession he made to Athos it should be impossible for him to talk his way out of it."

Athos' heart sped up. "When does the Cardinal intend to confront him?"

"Tomorrow morning. He wants all four of you there. Athos, you will have to speak up about what Saint-Pol told you."

"I understand. Will the King listen to me though?"

"We will give him no choice. Make your preparations."

TMTMTM

Athos dressed carefully. If he was to appear in front of the King he was going to look smart. His shirt and doublet had been cleaned of the blood stains inflicted during his torture. His boots shone and his weapons had been lovingly cleaned. His hair, which was longer than it had been when he was a Musketeer, was combed into submission. His beard and moustache had been trimmed. He brushed the dirt from his cloak and slung it over his shoulders. He felt very nervous.

The others had taken similar care over their appearances. Light blue cloaks hung over pristine leathers. Pauldrons were worn proudly and he had no doubt that their weapons were immaculate. Treville was wearing his breastplate over his uniform. It occurred to Athos that it looked like they were readying for war. Perhaps they were.

When they arrived at the Palace they went straight to Richelieu's office. The Cardinal was wearing his red robes and was an impressive sight. He regarded the Musketeers without warmth although he carried an air of suppressed excitement.

"The King is holding court in the throne room. Saint-Pol is with him as usual. It would be best to make the accusation in public so that Louis can't ignore it. He will take some persuading." Richelieu gathered up a small pile of papers. "Are we ready?"

"Yes," Treville said. "Let's get this over with."

"You understand that if the King doesn't believe us we are all finished?"

"It's worth the risk." Treville gestured towards the door. "After you."

Athos hung back, not wanting his presence to be noted until it came his time to speak. As he entered the throne room he heard the King speaking in annoyed tones.

"What's the meaning of this, Cardinal?"

Richelieu stalked forward and dramatically flung out an arm to point at Saint-Pol. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon but I have come into possession of evidence that proves that man is a traitor."

Louis looked in bemusement from the Cardinal to Saint-Pol. The Comte's cheeks were suffused with angry colour.

"The Cardinal grows desperate," Saint-Pol said. "Why else would he accuse a loyal member of your court of treason?"

An excited murmur spread through the throng of people lining the room. Their lives were mostly dull and routine so to hear some scandal was like the tastiest spice.

"I have proof," Richelieu said, ignoring Saint-Pol entirely. "May I approach, Sire?"

The King, still dumbfounded by the accusation, nodded. Richelieu walked to the foot of the dais and knelt, holding out the papers he had carried from his office.

"You will recall that I warned you of a plot to replace you with Gaston. Here is the evidence that Andre de Saint-Pol colluded with Protestants in England to bring about your demise."

"But, he wouldn't work with the Protestants," Louis protested weakly.

"He converted to their religion more than a year ago. Since his return to France he has been in touch with the Huguenot faction in Paris."

"This is nonsense," Saint-Pol shouted. "Whatever 'evidence' the Cardinal believes he has is false."

"You have in your hands, Majesty, sworn statements from the Earls of Bedford and Hertford and a confession by a man named Richard Askew who was a co-conspirator."

The King's hands shook as he read the papers. "Is this true?" he asked in a wavering voice.

Saint-Pol bent down and the King flinched. "I can assure you that I am a loyal subject. This scurrilous accusation is nothing more than the final act of a worried man. The Cardinal knows that you are considering replacing him and will do anything he can to cling to power."

"Is it true that you converted?"

Saint-Pol straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. He licked his lips and looked around furtively. "Yes."

"Why?"

"The King was oppressing his people. He imposed a levy which had to be paid by everyone, regardless of their means."

"I wouldn't have taken you for a man who cared about the masses," Richelieu said smugly.

"I had been abandoned in a foreign land. I saw injustice at every turn."

"You really expect us to believe that?" Richelieu asked incredulously. "Since your return to France you have done nothing other than encourage the King to raise money from the general populace to fund this ridiculous scheme of building a navy. Anyone would think you were trying to encourage unrest."

The King shifted uncomfortably on the throne. "Why would you turn against me?" he asked plaintively.

"There is one more piece of evidence," Richelieu said before turning and beckoning Athos forward.

Saint-Pol's mouth dropped open. "Yet another man who has cause to hate me," he snarled. "The Cardinal grows increasingly desperate."

"I will hear what he has to say."

Athos saw the change in Saint-Pol's expression as the Comte realised that the King was wavering. Treville must have seen it too because he stepped forward.

"Might I suggest that the Comte be placed under guard?" He gestured to Aramis and Porthos who quickly walked over to flank Saint-Pol, their expressions grim. Aramis pulled Saint-Pol's sword from its scabbard, leaving him unarmed.

"Tell the King what happened," Richelieu said to Athos.

"I was captured by two English spies after we received intelligence that Saint-Pol had visited them in the dead of night. They tortured me for information." His voice hitched as the memory of the beating returned. "I refused to tell them anything so they sent for the Comte. He intended for me to die and confessed his crimes."

"How did you get away?" the King asked.

"Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan found me."

"What did you do with this information? Why did you not bring it to me?"

"He informed Captain Treville and I," Richelieu said. "We were reluctant to present it to Your Majesty without corroborating evidence. It is no small matter to accuse a nobleman of treason. You will recall, though, that I warned you about a plot to kill you and we took precautions."

The King turned to Saint-Pol. "You were my friend. I trusted you," he said petulantly. "Now I find you have been conspiring against me all this time." He looked from Aramis to Porthos. "Take him away and keep him secure. There will be a trial at which time all the evidence will be presented."

Saint-Pol fell to his knees. "I beg you not to believe these lies."

"You will have your opportunity to speak at the trial. Get him out of my sight."

Aramis and Porthos dragged Saint-Pol to his feet and hustled him out a side door. The King watched them go with a downcast expression then turned to Athos.

"Athos, come before me."

Athos walked forward and sank to one knee. He looked at the ground for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking up.

"You remained loyal to me," the King said. "Even though you were stripped of your commission you never stopped looking out for my interests." His eyes swept around the gaping courtiers. "I prize loyalty above all other virtues." His gaze came to rest on Treville. "Give me your sword."

Athos felt like he couldn't breathe and his palms had become slippery with sweat.

The King took the sword and touched him on each shoulder. "I hereby commission you into my Regiment of Musketeers. May you always demonstrate the same loyalty as you have shown these past few weeks."

Athos cleared his throat which had become clogged with emotion. "Thank you, Sire."

His nightmare was over.

TMTMTM

The trial was a formality, the King having made his decision. Richelieu spent hours with the distraught monarch, who wavered between clemency and imposing the ultimate penalty on his childhood friend. The Cardinal argued that it would show weakness if the Comte were to be sentenced to nothing more than a spell in prison. The King, though, was fearful of an uprising of Huguenots if Saint-Pol were to be executed. Eventually, with heart-rending reluctance, he accepted the Cardinal's counsel.

On the day of the execution Athos remained at the garrison. He had no wish to witness the spectacle for himself. Treville was required to attend in his capacity as Captain of the Musketeers. When he returned he sent for Athos.

"It's done?" Athos asked.

"Yes. In the end he made a full confession. The King didn't attend. I don't think he could face watching him die despite his heinous crimes. Saint-Pol didn't lack for courage at the end. He died with dignity."

"Do you think the King is still in danger?"

"There are always threats to any monarchy but I believe he is safe for now. He has given up his mad scheme to build a navy and has revoked the additional taxes imposed on the people. The Queen continues in good health with her pregnancy so soon there will be an heir and that lends stability to the country."

"It appears religion will continue to be a source of discord. The situation in England grows direr with every day that passes. Surely it is only a matter of time before it crosses the Channel."

"Perhaps, but we will continue to do our job."

"Will that be enough?"

"For now it is the best we can do. Maybe someday the people will rise up but it won't be today and that in large part is due to you."

Athos bowed his head, embarrassed by the praise. "We all had our part to play."

"You saw Saint-Pol for what he was before any of us and paid a steep price for it."

Athos touched his pauldron and a proud expression lit up his face. "In the end I regained the most important thing and for that I have to thank my friends, you included, Sir."

Treville waved him away but a slight smile graced his lips. "Then it's time you returned to your duty, soldier."

"My pleasure, Captain." Athos left the office on his way to find his brothers. He wouldn't celebrate Saint-Pol's death but they could celebrate the fact that they had foiled a plot to kill the King and his heir. As he walked down the stairs he saw Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan waiting for him and he smiled.

The End


End file.
